Sir John spent the rest of the waking hours of that night in scheming how best he could get and keep Dorothy out of the way of Ralph Penlogan.
CHAPTER XIX
A SILENT WELCOME
If a man is unfortunate enough to find himself in the clutches of what is euphemistically called "the law," the sooner and the more completely he can school himself to patience the better for his peace of mind. Lawyers and legislators do not appear generally to be of a mechanical turn, and the huge machine which they have constructed for the purpose of discovering and punishing criminals is apparently without any reversing gear. The machine will go forward ponderously and cumbrously, but it will not go backward without an infinite amount of toil and trouble. Hence, if a man is once caught in its toils, even though he is innocent, he will, generally speaking, have to go through the mill and come out at the far end. For such a small and remote contingency as a miscarriage of justice there is apparently no provision. If the wronged and deluded man will only have patience, he will come out of the mill in due course; and if he is but civil, he will be rewarded with a free pardon and told not to do it again.
The generosity of the State in compensating those who have been wrongfully convicted and punished has grown into a proverb. In some instances they have been actually released before their time has expired—which, of course, has meant a considerable amount of work for those who had control of the mill; and work to the highly paid officials of the State is little less to be dreaded than the plague.
The whole country had been ringing with Jim Brewer's story for more than a week before the law officers of the Crown condescended to look at the matter at all, and when they did look at it they saw so many technicalities in the way, and so much red tape to be unwound, that their hearts failed them. It seemed very inconsiderate of this Jim Brewer to speak at all after he had kept silent so long, particularly as the Grand Jury would so soon have the case before them.
Meanwhile Ralph was waiting with as much patience as he could command for the day of the trial. That he would be found guilty he could not bring himself to believe. The more he reviewed the case, the more angry and disgusted he felt with the local Solomons who had sat in judgment on him. He was disposed almost to blame them more than he blamed the squire. Sir John might have some grounds for supposing that he (Ralph) had deliberately fired at him. But that the great unpaid of St. Goram and neighbouring parishes could be so blind and stupid filled him with disgust.
For himself, he did not mind the long delay so much; but as the days grew into weeks, his anxiety respecting his mother and Ruth grew into torment. He knew that their little spare cash could not possibly hold out many weeks, and then what would happen?
He had heard nothing from them for a long time, and Bodmin was so far away from St. Goram that they could not visit him. He wondered if they had reached such straits that they could not afford a postage stamp. The more he speculated on the matter the more alarmed he got. The letters he had been allowed to send had received no answer. And it seemed so unlike his mother and Ruth to remain silent if they were able to write.