Some hours afterward Colonel Clifford called as a magistrate to see if the sufferer had any deposition to make.  But he was mute, and his eyes fixed.

As Colonel Clifford returned, one of the detectives accosted him and asked him for a warrant to arrest him.

“Not in his present condition,” said Colonel Clifford, rather superciliously.  “And pray, sir, why did not you interfere sooner and prevent this lawless act?”

“Well, sir, unfortunately we were on the other side of the house.”

“Exactly; you had orders to be in one place, so you must be in another.  See the consequence.  The honest men have put themselves in the wrong, and this fellow in the right.  He will die a sort of victim, with his guilt suspected only, not proved.”

Having thus snubbed the Force, the old soldier turned his back on them and went home, where Grace met him, all anxiety, and received his report.  She implored him not to proceed any further against the man, and declared she should fly the country rather than go into a court of law as witness against him.

“Humph!” said the Colonel; “but you are the only witness.”

“All the better for him,” said she; “then he will die in peace.  My tongue has killed the man once; it shall never kill him again.”

About six next morning Monckton beckoned Lucy.  She came eagerly to him; he whispered to her, “Can you keep a secret?”

“You know I can,” said she.

“Then never let any one know I have spoken.”

“No, dear, never.  Why?”

“I dread the law more than death;” and he shuddered all over.  “Save me from the law.”

“Leonard, I will,” said she.  “Leave that to me.”

She wired for Mr. Middleton as soon as possible.

The next day there was no change in the patient.  He never spoke to anybody, except a word or two to Lucy, in a whisper, when they were quite alone.

In the afternoon down came Lawyer Middleton.  Lucy told him what he knew, but Monckton would not speak, even to him.  He had to get hold of Waddy before he understood the whole case.

Waddy was in Monckton’s secret, and, indeed, in everybody’s.  He knew it was folly to deceive your lawyer, so he was frank.  Mr. Middleton learned his client’s guilt and danger, but also that his enemies had flaws in their armor.

The first shot he fired was to get warrants out against a dozen miners, Jem Davies included, for a murderous assault; but he made no arrests, he only summoned.  So one or two took fright and fled.  Middleton had counted on that, and it made the case worse for those that remained.  Then, by means of friends in Derby, he worked the Press.