"I didn't tell him I was coming. But how is Uncle Job?" I asked, anxious to learn all I could about his affairs.
"Well, but in poor spirits, of course. It couldn't be otherwise in the desperate strait he is in," Mr. Seymour answered, soberly.
"Is it desperate, then?" I asked, my anxiety increased by his manner.
"Yes; a week or more has gone by without our being able to find the slightest clew to the theft, and the trial comes off in three days."
"In three days!" I cried; "surely they might give him time to prove his innocence."
"There is no haste, they think, and in this case your uncle expressly asks it, the court being now in session. He says he is innocent, and will scarce talk to a lawyer, not believing any one, least of all an Appletop jury, will think him guilty. In this I fear he is mistaken, and I am filled with anxiety in regard to him, so unfortunate does his case appear."
"You don't think him guilty, sir?"
"No, certainly not."
"Does any one? He, of all men!"
"At first every one scouted the idea," Mr. Seymour answered, "but now the feeling has changed. It is partly due, I think, to the devilish persistency of Moth, though appearances are all against your uncle, if the truth must be told."