id she.

Both sat quite still; quite silent for some time. Through the silence a
sharp, clear voice was heard speaking through the folding-doors.

"Take the kedgeree down, and tell the cook to keep it hot for the judge.
It is so tiresome people coming on business here, as if the judge had not
his proper hours for being at chambers."

He got up hastily, and went into the dining-room; but he had audibly some
difficulty in curbing his wife's irritation.

When he came back, Ellinor said:

"I am afraid I ought not to have come here now."

"Oh! it's all nonsense!" said he, in a tone of annoyance. "You've done
quite right." He seated himself where he had been before; and again half
covered his face with his hand.

"And Dixon knew of this. I believe I must put the fact plainly--to
you--your father was the guilty person? he murdered Dunster?"

"Yes. If you call it murder. It was done by a blow, in the heat of
passion. No one can ever tell how Dunster always irritated papa," said
Ellinor, in a stupid, heavy way; and then she sighed.

"How do you know this?" There was a kind of tender reluctance in the
judge's voice, as he put all these questions. Ellinor had made up her
mind beforehand that something like them must be asked, and must also be
answered; but she spoke like a sleep-walker.

"I came into papa's room just after he had struck Mr. Dunster the blow.
He was lying insensible, as we thought--dead, as he really was."

"What was Dixon's part in it? He must have known a good deal about it.
And the horse-lancet that was found with his name upon it?"

"Papa went to wake Dixon, and he brought his fleam--I suppose to try and
bleed him. I have said enough, have I not? I seem so confused. But I
will answer any question to make it appear that Dixon is innocent."

The judge had been noting all down. He sat still now without replying to
her. Then he wrote rapidly, referring to his previous paper, from time
to time. In five minutes or so he read the facts which Ellinor had
stated, as he now arranged them, in a legal and connected form. He just
asked her one or two trivial questions as he did so. Then he read it
over to her, and asked her to sign it. She took up the pen, and held it,
hesitating.

"This will never be made public?" said she.

"No; I shall take care that no one but the Home Secretary sees it."

"Thank you. I could not help it, now it has come to this."

"There are not many men like Dixo