CHAPTER VIII 

AN AWFUL RESPONSIBILITY 

John Hardaway, although he was a solicitor in a very busy practice, did not keep his friend waiting for a moment. "Come in, Deane, old chap," he said. "Is this business or friendship?" 

"Mostly business," declared Deane. 

Hardaway glanced at the clock. "Twelve minutes, precisely," he said. "Fire away, there's a good fellow. You are not going to give me the affairs of the Incorporated Gold-Mines Association to look after, I suppose?" 

"Not I," Deane answered. "They need a more subtle brain than yours, I am afraid. I have come to see you about the other affair." 

The lawyer nodded. "You heard the result?" he asked. "We did what we could." 

"Perhaps," Deane answered. "The only thing is that you did not do enough. I am perfectly convinced, Hardaway, that that man did not go there with the intention of murdering Sinclair." 

"The evidence," Hardaway remarked, "was exceedingly awkward." 

"Do you think," Deane asked, "that there is any chance of a reprieve?" 

"As things stand at present," said Hardaway, "I am afraid not." 

Deane for the first time sat down. With frowning face, he seemed to be engaged in a deliberate study of the pattern of the carpet. "Hardaway," he said finally, "I want to ask you a question in criminal law." 

The lawyer laughed dryly. "Not on your own account, I hope?" 

"You can call it curiosity, or whatever you like," Deane answered. "The only point is that I want you to answer me a question, and forget that I have ever asked it you. Your lawyer is like your confessor, isn't he--your lawyer and your doctor?" 
What did Deane believe about the case?
 that that man did not go there with the intention of murdering Sinclair." 