"Your brother!" said the barrister, in a tone of full conviction. "Not even to you, my dear friend, will I say who that person was," replied Chandos. "Suffice it that I raised poor Roberts from the ground, covered my hands and coat with blood, and perhaps my feet also. I soon found that life was quite extinct; and, in horror and anguish, which I will not trouble you with describing, I laid the body down again, and returned to my cottage, in the hope of escaping all question as to the perpetrator of the crime. At first, I never thought that suspicion might attach to myself; but when I began to look at the matter more closely, I saw the danger in which I stood. I then considered my course; and I made up my mind never, under any circumstances, to shield myself by accusing the person really criminal. You must, therefore, according to your promise, let me know precisely what line of defence you are inclined to adopt; for I will not consent to anything being done by me or for me to point suspicion against another." The barrister fell into deep thought, and for many minutes he uttered not a word. He was arranging all the facts and circumstances with that wonderful precision which, when he pleased, rendered the most dark and intricate subject as clear as noon-light. "Your position, my dear Winslow," he said at length, "is indeed a very painful and very difficult one; but I must exhort you, as a man of honour, and a respecter of the laws of your country, not to let any personal feelings impede the course of justice." Chandos waved his hand. "There is no law," he said, "which could require me to denounce the guilty in this instance." "Oh yes, there is!" replied his friend: "no tie should throw a shield over a murderer. But I can understand your feelings, and respect them. However, your own life must not be risked; and it is now for me to consider how, if I hold my promise to you, I can frame a reasonable and legitimate defence. If you simply plead 'Not guilty,' and give no account of yourself which may break through the chain of evidence against you, there is not a panel in all England that will not condemn you. If you state openly what you saw and heard, there may still be great doubts and difficulties to contend with: the probability of your having killed your father's steward will seem greater to a jury as the case stands at present, than that your brother did so." "Good God! why?" demanded Chandos. "Because, in your case," answered the barrister, "a letter was found upon the dead man, showing that some irritation of feeling had taken place between you; and in his case there does not appear at present any reasonable motive for the act. As far as I see things at present, then, I believe that the best course will be to follow the line you would yourself desire--to leave the matter vague; to let suspicion float generally of the crime having been committed by another without giving it a particular direction."