“Guardian, you don’t think it possible that he is justly accused?”

“My dear, I can’t think so.  This man whom we have seen so open-hearted and compassionate, who with the might of a giant has the gentleness of a child, who looks as brave a fellow as ever lived and is so simple and quiet with it, this man justly accused of such a crime?  I can’t believe it.  It’s not that I don’t or I won’t.  I can’t!”

“And I can’t,” said Mr. Woodcourt.  “Still, whatever we believe or know of him, we had better not forget that some appearances are against him.  He bore an animosity towards the deceased gentleman.  He has openly mentioned it in many places.  He is said to have expressed himself violently towards him, and he certainly did about him, to my knowledge.  He admits that he was alone on the scene of the murder within a few minutes of its commission.  I sincerely believe him to be as innocent of any participation in it as I am, but these are all reasons for suspicion falling upon him.”

“True,” said my guardian.  And he added, turning to me, “It would be doing him a very bad service, my dear, to shut our eyes to the truth in any of these respects.”

I felt, of course, that we must admit, not only to ourselves but to others, the full force of the circumstances against him.  Yet I knew withal (I could not help saying) that their weight would not induce us to desert him in his need.

“Heaven forbid!” returned my guardian.  “We will stand by him, as he himself stood by the two poor creatures who are gone.”  He meant Mr. Gridley and the boy, to both of whom Mr. George had given shelter.

Mr. Woodcourt then told us that the trooper’s man had been with him before day, after wandering about the streets all night like a distracted creature.  That one of the trooper’s first anxieties was that we should not suppose him guilty.  That he had charged his messenger to represent his perfect innocence with every solemn assurance he could send us.  That Mr. Woodcourt had only quieted the man by undertaking to come to our house very early in the morning with these representations.  He added that he was now upon his way to see the prisoner himself.

My guardian said directly he would go too.  Now, besides that I liked the retired soldier very much and that he liked me, I had that secret interest in what had happened which was only known to my guardian.  I felt as if it came close and near to me.  It seemed to become personally important to myself that the truth should be discovered and that no innocent people should be suspected, for suspicion, once run wild, might run wilder.

In a word, I felt as if it were my duty and obligation to go with them.  My guardian did not seek to dissuade me, and I went.