Grant remarked on her matter-of-fact acceptance of his word at Carninnish as to the man's guilt.
"Well," she said, "you knew much more about it than I did. I never saw him till three days previously. I liked him — but that didn't make him guilty or innocent. Besides, I'd rather be a brute than a fool."
Grant considered this unfeminine pronouncement in silence, and she repeated her question.
"Oh, no," Grant said; "this isn't America. And in any case, he has made his statement, as you heard, and he is not likely to change his mind or make another."
"Has he any friends?"
"Only your aunt, Mrs. Everett."
"And who will pay for his defence?"
Grant explained.
"Then he can't have any of the good ones. That doesn't seem to me particularly fair — for the law to keep famous lawyers to do their prosecuting and not famous lawyers to defend poor criminals."
Grant grinned. "Oh, he'll have a fair deal, don't you worry. It is the police who are harried round in a murder case."