“I'm afraid so. George, as I have said, is no more crazy than you or I. But he cannot come out of the asylum, as the case now stands, without going to the penitentiary. So the first move of his friends will be to get a pardon. Then he is our equal in the eyes of the law. It would be an ugly thing for you and me to be sued for a conspiracy to ruin this young man, and have the charge of forgery added to the count.”
Mrs. Dinneford gave a low cry, and shivered.
“But it may come to that.”
“Impossible!”
“The prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished,” said Freeling. “It is for this that I have sent for you. It's an ugly business, and I was a weak fool ever to have engaged in it.”
“You were a free agent.”
“I was a weak fool.”
“As you please,” returned Mrs. Dinneford, coldly, and drawing herself away from him.
It was some moments before either of them spoke again. Then Freeling said,
“I was awake all night, thinking over this matter, and it looks uglier the more I think of it. It isn't likely that enough evidence could be found to convict either of us, but to be tried on such an accusation would be horrible.”