"I didn't do it, my dear one. That's where they were mistaken. I should be no more capable of doing such a thing than you are."
"Then why did they condemn you—and say you were guilty?"
"They knew no better. The guilty man escaped, and I suffered."
"But why did you not tell the truth? Why did you not accuse him to the judge?"
"I told the judge I was innocent; but that is what most prisoners say, and it made no impression on him," replied Tom. "For the rest, I did not understand the affair as well as I did after the trial. All had been so hurried; there was no time for anything. Yes, Blanche, you may at least take this solitary bit of consolation to your heart—that I was not guilty."
"And that other man, who was?" she asked eagerly, lifting her face. "Where is he?"
"Flourishing," said Tom. "Driving about the world four-in-hand, no doubt, and taking someone else in as he took me."
Blanche turned to me, looking haughty enough.
"Charles, cannot anything be done to expose the man?" she cried. Tom spoke again before I could answer.
"It will not matter to me then, one way or the other. But, Charley, I do sometimes wish, as I lie thinking, that the truth might be made known and my memory cleared. I was reckless and foolish enough, heaven knows, but I never did that for which I was tried and sentenced."