And Mr. Edwards was stirred by the unexpected question. After all, he thought, since Jim was not trying to shield himself, whom else could he wish to shield? And a sudden deep enthusiasm filled him for this son who was not only courageous and truthful, but who, in spite of his unjust treatment, was loyal, who--he thrilled at the word--loved him! But no, it was not possible! How could his son have thought that he could accuse his boy of what he had done himself? And upon this doubt, he found himself with a quickened pulse at the door of the jail. Farnsworth rang the bell. Soon they stood in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, facing Jim and Nancy. And then Miss Ware caught Farnsworth by the arm and drew him quickly into the hall, and shut the door behind her. "I'm certain!" she whispered, breathlessly. "When I told Jim first, he wasn't glad at all, until I managed to let him know his father wasn't arrested. O Fred, that boy's a little trump!" Meanwhile, in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, father and son faced each other, and it would be hard to say which of the two was the more embarrassed. But certain questions burned on Mr. Edwards's lips. "Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think that _I_ shot Lamoury?" "Yes, sir," said Jim. "But why, my boy, why should I want to shoot him?" "Lamoury had been telling," said Jim, highly embarrassed. "Telling?" said his father, in perplexity. "Yes, sir," said Jim, "you know--about your being a--a smuggler." Much astonished, Mr. Edwards pushed his questions, and soon came to know the depth and breadth of his boy's misconception. "Then," he said finally, "when I accused you of having fired the shot, you thought I had to do so to avoid an arrest which would be serious for me. Is that it?" "Yes, sir." Mr. Edwards could not speak for a moment for emotion. Then he drew the boy to him. "My son, my son," he said, "you and I must know each other better." And by the same token, Jim realized that his father was proud of him and loved him. It was new and sweet. He felt a little foolish, but very happy. "Jim," his father said huskily, "would you like a new breech-loader?" And then Jim was happier still. * * * * * Those were reluctant feet which dragged Mr. Peaslee the next morning to the jury-room. The counsel of the night had brought no comfort, and when he came among his fellows their constraint and silence were far from reassuring. Nor, when the sitting had begun, did he like the enigmatic smile with which the well-dressed Paige stood and swung his watch-chain. How he distrusted and feared this smug, self-complacent young man! Yet the state's attorney's first words brought him unexpected comfort. "Mr. Lamoury," he said, still with that puzzling smile, "has consented, in spite of his serious physical condition, to appear before you."