“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
for it! No man ever admits that he’s a criminal. If there ’s any truth in his yarn let the jury acquit him!”
“It’s true! I swear every word is true!” moaned the girl. “Are you going to lock him up in prison because he was too kind-hearted to let my mother know what father had done? Oh, Sir Hubert! Have some pity! And father had worked for you thirty years—thirty years,—and the most he was paid,—at the very end,—was two hundred and fifty pounds a year! He could n’t support us all and educate me, and have proper care for mother on that!”
“Trevelyan,” interrupted Lily, speaking very steadily and clearly, “let me say a word. I believe this girl. I don’t believe her husband is a criminal. All I ask you, is not to be hasty in the matter. Save him the humiliation of an arrest and have his story investigated. The directors certainly would not want to punish an innocent man, and they probably would n’t want to prosecute old Fergus MacPherson under the circumstances.”
“But my duty!” returned Trevelyan doggedly. “How about my duty? Are we to
266
