And then the barbarous old Statute! Practically repealed in every other country, but still capable of operation in the Isle of Man. Think of it! Five years, ten years, fifteen years--even death itself, perhaps! "Stowell, we are old chums .... it's not right of me, I know that .... but for the sake of our old friendship, sit on Bessie's case yourself." Stowell felt as if he were on the edge of a precipice. Abysmal depths lay before him at the next step. With an awful secret in his heart he felt that it was almost impossible to speak one word more without betraying himself. He was silent, for a moment while Gell stood over him with wild eyes which he had never seen before. At length he said, "Bessie is to plead Not Guilty?" "Certainly." "Will she stick to that?" "Undoubtedly. Why shouldn't she? Besides, she has given me her promise." Again Stowell was silent for a moment; then he said, "I cannot promise to conduct the Court, but if Taubman will do so, and I'm fit to sit with him, I'll .... I'll see she has a fair trial." Gell made a shout of joy. "That's good enough for me. Just like you, old fellow." He snatched up his cap--a different man in a moment. "I must get back to town now. I have the witnesses to arrange for. Not too many of them unfortunately. There's the mother, she's all right, but not likely to be good in the box. I'm not calling the step-father. It seems he's giving the case away in the glen. The damned old blackguard! I should like to break his ugly neck. I jolly well will, too, one of these days. But Bessie will clear herself. Since she's going to be my wife she must leave the Court without a stain. Good-bye and God bless you, old chap! .... No, no, don't come to the door." (Stowell was for seeing him out.) "Take care of yourself. Good men are scarce. And then you've got to be fit for the Court, you know. By-bye!" Stowell watched him from the window as he rode down the drive on his tired horse, patting its neck and encouraging it with cheery cries. Now he understood why Bessie had held off while Gell had wished to marry her. It had been a case of the wife of the Peel fisherman over again, with the difference that Bessie (to avoid the danger of deceiving her husband) had made away with her child before marriage instead of after it. Wild, foolish, frantic scheme! Yet what courage! What strength! What affection! But if, under Taubman's searching questions, the conspiracy of love should fail, and Bessie's defence should collapse, and Gell should see that she had deceived him, and that _he_ too.... No, no, that must not be! After all, what outrage on Justice would it be to keep a case like this out of the hands of a cold-blooded inhuman legal machine who would commit more crime than he punished? Still standing by the window, Stowell heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs on the high road. Gell, in high spirits, was galloping home. IV