"'My dear old chap,' I said, 'you don't know what you are saying; there's a mistake somewhere—some thief present has evidently dropped the thing into your pocket.' It was an illuminating thought, and I turned to the public and made the suggestion loudly. 'Surely someone has seen this done,' I added, with great assurance. 'No, I took it—I coveted its possession, and I am ready to bear the consequences,' was his answer."
Dr. Hatherley paused, then continued: "Well, the whole horrible story was repeated at the trial, although I urged a plea should be put forward for sudden aberration of the brain, in my confidence as to my friend's innocence; of course no one heeded me, and he was convicted and—and—suffered—a—nine months'—sentence."
Horace Hatherley's voice shook as he finished, and for a little neither of the men spoke, then he resumed: "Mrs. Medhurst was practically ignored by her so-called friends, and vanished, I know not where—probably to this out-of-the-way place you mention. No one seemed to remember her after the first whirl of excitement was over, and as to the husband, his memory seemed to be blotted out by most of those who had known him.
"But I say this, Crane, I am as confident to-day, as I was at his trial, that in some way there was a miscarriage of justice, and somewhere in the world may live the man or woman he was screening. It seems hardly just to suggest it, but the thought will come sometimes—could it have been his wife? And yet, poor lady, I have no reason for doubting her. Seeing her death announced made the whole thing come back to my mind with revivified force."
Dr. Crane's pipe had long since gone out for lack of attention.
"It's a wonderfully sad and yet interesting story," he remarked; "I will of course keep it to myself, but had I known this earlier, I should certainly have tried to save Margaret Woodford from going to employers with this shadow over them."
"Oh, you needn't worry," said his friend, a little testily, "or I shall be sorry I told you; you may take it from me, any woman would be safe under the care of such a chivalrous gentleman as Gordon Medhurst. There is a mistake somewhere; I hope in some way—God's way, perhaps—his name will be cleared."
* * * * *
It was some weeks later that Dr. Hatherley noticed another announcement in his morning paper which brought a fervent "Thank God!" to his lips as he read it. It was headed:
"AN OLD SOCIETY CRIME RECALLED