what witness they could have called, unless it had been myself; and they might have found it difficult to get satisfaction from that quarter. But John would run no risks of drawing Sinfire into the scrape: so, as the least of two evils, he replied, after a pause, that he was willing to admit the existence of such a situation as had been outlined in the preceding dialogue. "And I want to say this," he added,—"my reason for keeping back information is not to save myself from whatever may come of it. If you can show any motive strong enough to make me guilty of such a crime as this, you are welcome to do it. It is only because the motive you were trying to get at would make an innocent person suffer pain that I wished to say nothing about it." To this the lawyer bowed a polite assent.
It occurred to me, however, that there might be some object behind the ostensible one in these questions; and this suspicion was strengthened by the fact that John's examination was continued but a short time longer, and concluded with the decision that there was not sufficient evidence to warrant his being held. But just before he left the box, the counsel, as if from an after-thought, requested permission to refer to another matter. "After leaving Dr. Frank Mainwaring's rooms," he went on, "what did you do?"
"I rode back to the lake," replied John, "to bring back the party there."
"Exactly. And of what persons did the party at the lake consist?"
"There were three servants," said he, naming them, "and my mother, Mrs. Mainwaring, and" He hesitated.
"No one else?"
"I believe I noticed no others at the lake."
"Was there not a young lady, a relative of yours?"
"She had been there, but I didn't see her at that time," said John, hastily. "But she joined us on our way back. I suppose she must have ridden on in front, and missed her way, or something of that sort. I was occupied with my mother, and didn't notice."
"Thank you. I believe I need not detain you any longer, Mr. Mainwaring," said the other, with a bow; and John stepped down, smiling at me, and not knowing what he had done.
XVI.
Some cynic once declared that the heaviest calamity that can befall a man is to see all his hopes fulfilled. It must be an old saying, for the legend of Tithonus illustrates it; and many an unhappy victim of success has proved its truth since then. It seems that I, too, am to realize its bitterness.
