'Well, then, suppose you forgot to tell him to be careful with it, because it was loaded, and he went off and shot himself with that pistol—fooling with it, you know, and probably doing it by accident, being drunk. Well, would it be murder?'
'No—suicide.'
'No, no. I don't mean his act, I mean yours: would you be a murderer for letting him have that pistol?'
After deep thought came this answer—
'Well, I should think I was guilty of something—maybe murder—yes, probably murder, but I don't quite know.'
This made me very uncomfortable. However, it was not a decisive verdict. I should have to set out the real case—there seemed to be no other way. But I would do it cautiously, and keep a watch out for suspicious effects. I said—
'I was supposing a case, but I am coming to the real one now. Do you know how the man came to be burned up in the calaboose?'
'No.'
'Haven't you the least idea?'
'Not the least.'