THERE WAS CONSIDERABLE excitement when it became known to the crowd, as it speedily did, that Harry Bartlett, almost universally accepted as the fiancé of Viola Carwell, had been held as having vital knowledge of her father’s death. Indeed there were not a few wild rumors which insisted that he had been held on a charge of murder.
“Oh, I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Viola, when they told her. “It can’t be possible that they can hold him on such a charge. It’s unfair!”
“Perhaps,” gently admitted Dr. Lambert. “The law is not always fair; but it seeks to know the truth.”
Viola and her aunt were again in the room where Viola had been revived from her indisposition caused by the shock of Bartlett’s testimony. Colonel Ashley, who, truth to tell, had been expecting some suc
