“Oh, pretty well. Of course, your mother is very troubled at what has occurred, but, on the whole, she bears it better than I could have hoped for. She believes that you’re innocent.” “She’s right.” Will heaved a sigh. “I hope she is,” said he. “Thank’ee,” said Tom, a little grimly, and then the talk lapsed between them again. “Tom,” said Will, breaking the silence, “your father has engaged me to act as your attorney in this matter. The Lord knows, I wish I had more experience. I haven’t always worked as hard as I might have done, and now, when it has fallen to my lot to have to defend the brother of the girl that I hope to marry from a charge of murder, it seems likely that I’ll have to pay a bitter price for all the time that I have wasted. However, I’ll go to Philadelphia to-morrow and see Mr. Fargio, and get him to take up your case. I’ve come to talk over the matter with you, Tom.” “Wait a minute, Will. I have a question to ask you, first. Do you believe me guilty?” Will Gaines looked fixedly out of the window of the cell, but he did not answer. Tom smiled a little sadly. “I think I know how you feel about it, without the asking, Will,” said he. “Now, do you think that I’d have a man defend me who didn’t believe that I was innocent?” “Of course; you’d have to have some one to defend you.” “I don’t see that. If I really was guilty of this thing, it seems to me that I ought to be punished as the law calls for. However, that is neither here nor there, for I hope to make you believe in my innocence before you quit this cell.” “I wish to Heaven you could,” said Will, but his tone was rather gloomy than hopeful. “Well, I’ll have a try at it. In the first place, I’ll have to ask you whether you think that I’m the kind of man that would murder another in cold blood?” “Of course I don’t believe that,” said Will. “You don’t think that I’m capable of lying in wait for Isaac Naylor, and deliberately killing him—not in heat of passion, but with a cool hand?” “Certainly not. You don’t think that I’d believe such a thing of you as that, do you?” “Then, if I had killed him, I would have been in a rage, and hardly conscious of what I was doing?” “Yes.” “In that case, I think that I can easily convince you that I didn’t do it at all.” “I wish you could,” said Will, again. “Do you believe what I told you up home, about meeting Isaac Naylor, and fighting with him?” Will nodded his head. “If I’d killed him at all, I would have killed him then, and in that struggle, wouldn’t I?” “Yes.” “Very good. Now, Dr. Winterapple affirmed before the magistrate that only one blow had been given, and that that blow was immediately behind and under the right ear.” Will was looking very earnestly at Tom. “I heard his evidence before the coroner’s jury,” said he. “Well, I’m right, ain’t I?” “Yes.”