"Thou'st hanged tha partner," said one man to George Preston. "Thine was the most damning evidence of th' lot."
Preston's face was pale as ashes. He could scarcely speak. "I couldn't help it," he said.
"Nay, I suppose not. But it seemed to me that every answer tha gave was another strand in the rope which shall hang him."
"God knows," said Preston, "if I could have answered in any other way than I did I would have done so."
"I don't know what to believe. I know he hated Wilson. I know they've been at daggers drawn for years, but I can't believe that Paul did it that way. He isn't that kind of man. Besides, it doesn't stand to reason that he should have taken the knife that was known to be his to do such work."
"And yet, what could I do? As far as I know, nobody did go into the office, and nobody could take it without his knowing."
"We've noan heard the last on it yet. Things'll come to light."
"Ay," whispered another man in another part of the room. "'He that hateth his brother is a murderer'--that's Scripture, ain't it? And Paul hated Wilson. Besides, he had no faith in owt. He believed in neither God nor devil. Ay, it's a sad thing when a chap's given up faith in religion."
And so men talked, while many shook their heads and wondered. Many did not believe in his guilt, and yet when the question was asked as to who could be guilty if not he, no reply was given.
"He'll have a weary Christmas," remarked an old weaver as the prison van went towards the station. "I wish I could send him summat to make it a bit brighter, but what can us do?"
A little later Paul was brought back to Brunford again. He had to appear a second time before the magistrates, who, after another examination, committed him for trial to the Manchester Assizes.
"What'll happen to him now?" asked someone after the committal.
"He'll have to stay in Strangeways Gaol in Manchester until the Assizes are held," was the reply.
"It may be weeks; it may be months. But I expect it'll be held somewhere about the end of January." It was a young lawyer who said this, who was hoping that the trial would mean some work for him.
"Poor Paul!" was the response. "I wonder how his mother is takin' it?"
Of course, the newspapers were full of the accounts of the murder of young Edward Wilson. The two Brunford papers were filled with practically nothing else. The Manchester dailies devoted several columns to it. Not only were the Wilsons an important family in Lancashire, but Paul Stepaside was a Member of Parliament, who had lately made a speech of note in the House. Even the London dailies gave a large amount of space to it; and on the morning following the coroner's inquest Mary Bolitho felt as though someone had struck her a blow, when, on the first page of the newspaper which had been sent to her father's house, she saw the staring headlines: "Brunford Murder. Coroner's Inquest. Paul Stepaside, M.P., committed for trial." She had no breakfast that day, but went straight to her room, where she spent hours reading and re-reading the reports given. Everything pointed to the fact that Paul was guilty, and yet she felt sure he was not. The shock of Ned Wilson's death, of course, had been very great, and she had written a letter of condolence to the family. But even her horror at the murder was nothing compared with her feelings as she realised that Paul Stepaside, even at that moment, lay in Strangeways Gaol. She remembered him as they spoke together the last time they had met. She called to mind her admiration of him, and reflected that, although he had been brought up among the working classes, his appearance gave no suggestion of it. Perfectly dressed, perfectly calm, and possessed of that _savoir faire_ which seems to be innate with a certain class of people, Paul was infinitely removed from the class of men with whom one associates criminal deeds. She knew enough of law, and had talked sufficiently often with her father, to know how absolutely false circumstantial evidence may be, even although it seems absolutely conclusive; and now, despite the fact that her father seemed to have no doubt about Paul's guilt, her mind simply refused to accept it.