"Don't ask me any questions, father. I want to go with you. I want to be near to you." "Oh, very well," he replied. "If you can find any pleasure in being in Lancashire at this time of the year by all means come. But I think you'll repent of it." A few days later, however, she started upon the journey northwards with her father, knowing that, according to all probability, he would be the judge who would try Paul Stepaside for murder. Meanwhile the accused man lay in Strangeways Gaol. Up to the present he had been treated with leniency, if not kindness. First of all, according to the English law, every man is regarded as innocent until he's proved to be guilty, and as yet this had not taken place in Paul's case. He was allowed to see whom he would. If he wished lawyers to come and consult with him with regard to the method of his trial, or to arrange for counsel, it was in his power to do so. He could also see friends. Of course, he was held in strict confinement, but until the word of doom was spoken certain privileges were allowed to him which would be impossible afterwards. As a matter of fact, too, many people came to see him. An ambitious young solicitor from Brunford, a friend of Paul's, came to urge him to be defended and to offer his services. "You and I, Stepaside," he said, "have known each other for years. Won't you allow me to prepare your defence?" "No," said Paul. "But why?" "Because I have none." "Do you mean to say, then, that you're going to plead 'guilty'?" "I don't say that--no, I shall plead 'Not guilty.'" "Then will you allow yourself to be undefended?" "I choose to defend myself," he replied. "But, my dear fellow, you minimise your own chances that way!" "Nevertheless, what defence is made on my part I shall make myself," he replied. The young solicitor looked at him in astonishment. "You must be mad!" he said. "It isn't as though you can't afford it." "No, it's not a matter of money," said Paul. "You're going to plead 'Not guilty,' you say?" "Yes." "Then what is the line of defence you're going to offer?" "That will be seen when the time comes." "Come now, Stepaside, do be reasonable. I know a man, perhaps the most brilliant K.C. on the Northern Circuit. Won't you let me bring him to you?" Paul shook his head. "No," he said. "I want to see no one." "No one?" "No, no one for that purpose. I shall make my own defence in my own way." The interview which affected him most during the first weeks after he had been committed for trial was that between himself and his mother. He had been sitting alone for hours, brooding over the terrible position in which he found himself placed, and, naturally, his mind reverted to Brunford and to its many associations.