“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to believe that he reasoned out the chance of the priest finding us and then deliberately employed what he regards as a sacrament--that is confession--to put in circulation a concocted story for the purpose of deceiving us. I don’t believe he’s that smart; and I don’t believe, with his belief in the Church, he’d dare do it.” “We seem to be in the business of acquitting everybody,” the other said in a surly tone. “It’s certainly not our business to convict, but to find out the truth,” Trafford answered. “We aren’t prosecuting attorneys.” “But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.” “Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake of proving the innocence of the innocent as the guilt of the guilty, we only do half the work that we ought to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly charged than prove a man, thought innocent, guilty,” answered Trafford. “Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the world gives you most credit for. If you can hang a man, it thinks you’ve done something big; but if you stop them from hanging a man, they think they’ve been cheated.” “Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s more a question of what we think about the kind of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks of it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself--right down honestly satisfied--I find I can let the world think what it’s a mind to.” CHAPTER XIV A Duel Mrs. Matthewson entered the little parlour, where she had met Trafford, for the purpose of keeping another appointment--one that she had not wanted to make and which she had not yet dared refuse. When she visited her son, she knew the name of the man who, under his direction, was hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did not know the man. Now she was to meet him face to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself with the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her humblest subject. Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as he entered, and rebel as he would, it daunted him and took a share of his bravado from him. She returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose not to aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his errand. “I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling you.” She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He apparently had not struck the line of least resistance. “I have been employed,” he began, “upon the Wing murder case.” Then, at the look in her eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder case had the least possible interest to her, he added desperately: “Among those who employed me were your sons.” “Then you should report to them.” These were the first words she had spoken and the tone was beyond measure forbidding, but they were at the least words and a recognition that she was taking part in the interview. As such they helped the man who, in spite of his experience, was floundering woefully.