“I—I think so. I could always trust you, Sam. And so could my father, and Judge Ferguson.”
“If that’s the case, why do you think I’d let my friend Toby Clark serve a term in prison for a felony he didn’t commit, when I could save him by tellin’ what I know?”
“I can’t understand it, Sam. It’s so unlike you. Tell me why.”
He sighed at her insistence. Then he said doggedly.
“Our secret, Phoebe? You’ll keep mum?”
“Unless by telling I can save Toby.”
He reflected, his face very grave.
“No; you couldn’t save Toby by telling, for no power on earth can make Sam Parsons speak when he’s determined to keep his mouth shut. It’s for you I’m goin’ to speak now, an’ for no one else. I’d like to explain to you, Phoebe, because we’re old friends, an’ we’re both fond of Toby. It’ll be a sort of relief to me, too. But no judge could make me tell this.”
“Then I’ll promise.”
He rocked to and fro a while before he began.