"If they find a true bill, it will go to the trial jury. And," he added slowly, "the charge will be manslaughter."
She started as he pronounced the word. In her ears it was the legal synonym for murder, and before the awfulness of that conception her heart recoiled.
"Manslaughter!" she repeated involuntarily.
"Yes, but Everett thinks it is very doubtful whether the Grand Jury will find a true bill against any one. It would be almost an unheard-of thing to do. Of course, Graves will stay away until he sees how it will turn out, and probably the others will keep out of reach. Everett wants me to go—"
"No, no!" she cried, "never! You have come all this way on the hard road, and we must go on to the very end, no matter what that is."
"So I thought you would feel," he answered gently. "I said the same thing to Everett. Of course, the justice of it isn't very clear. It's mixed up with politics, anyway. I don't know that it would do much good to any one to stay and be tried. But if you feel that way—"
She laid her hand on his arm, imploring him mutely not to give her all the responsibility for the decision.
"Think what it might mean, if—if they found me guilty!" he muttered gloomily.
"I know," she shuddered. "But Francis, we must pay somehow, you and I. We must pay!"