"Do you know anything about the murder—the trial I mean? You come from Yorkshire, do you not—I can tell by your accent," she said with a faint attempt at a smile.
"Yes, I'm fra Yorkshire," said Brack. "Used to be at Scarborough some years ago."
"I come from Yorkshire too," she said. "I remember some years ago there was a celebrated trial there, a murder case, the man who was convicted shot the husband of some lady he had been compromised with. It was a very sad case, a very old Yorkshire family, I forget the name, it was Wood something—oh, I have it, Woodridge, that's it. Do you recollect it?"
Brack was on the alert. She knew a good deal more about it than she pretended; he was sure of it. Who was she?
"I remember it; most folks up our way will remember it to their dying day," he said.
"Why?"
"Because no one believed him guilty."
"But he was found guilty and sentenced."
"Many an innocent man suffers for another's crime," said Brack.
"Perhaps it was this man who escaped," she said.