Brenton found himself once more in the streets of Cincinnati, in a state
of mind that can hardly be described. Rage and grief struggled for the
mastery, and added to the tumult of these passions was the uncertainty
as to what he should do, or what he _could_ do. He could hardly ask the
advice of Ferris again, for his whole trouble arose from his neglect of
the counsel that gentleman had already given him. In his new sphere he
did not know where to turn. He found himself wondering whether in the
spirit-land there was any firm of lawyers who could advise him, and he
remembered then how singularly ignorant he was regarding the conditions
of existence in the world to which he now belonged. However, he felt
that he must consult with somebody, and Ferris was the only one to whom
he could turn. A moment later he was face to face with him.
"Mr. Ferris," he said, "I am in the most grievous trouble, and I come to
you in the hope that, if you cannot help me, you can at least advise me
what to do."
"If your trouble has come," answered Ferris, with a shade of irony in
his voice, "through following the advice that I have already given you,
I shall endeavour, as well as I am able, to help you out of it."
"You know very well," cried Brenton, hotly, "that my whole trouble
has occurred through neglecting your advice, or, at least, through
deliberately not following it. I _could_ not follow it."
"Very well, then," said Ferris, "I am not surprised that you are in a
difficulty. You must remember that such a crisis is an old story with us
here."
"But, my dear sir," said Brenton, "look at the appalling condition of
things, the knowledge of which has just come to me. It seems I was
poisoned, but of course that doesn't matter. I feel no resentment
against the wretch who did it. But the terrible thing is that my wife
has been arrested for the crime, and I have just learned that her own
lawyers actually believe her guilty."
"That fact," said Ferris, calmly, "will not interfere with their
eloquent pleading when the case comes to trial."
Brenton glared at the man who was taking things so coolly, and who
proved himself so unsympathetic; but an instant after he realized the
futility of quarrelling with the only person who could give him advice,
so he continued, with what patience he could command--
"The situation is this: My wife has been arrested for the crime of
murdering me. She is now in the custody of the sheriff. Her trouble and
anxiety of mind are fearful to contemplate."
"My dear sir," said Ferris, "there is no reason why you or anybody else
should contemplate it."
"How can you talk in that cold-blooded way?" cried Brenton, indignantly.
"Could you see _your_ wife, or any one _you_ held dear, incarcerated for
a dreadful crime, and yet remain calm and collected, as you now appear
to be when you hear of another's misfortune?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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