She was firm enough now, and her voice was very convincing.  Miss Brady gazed at her steadily and seemed impressed with her candor.

“Well, he hadn’t better,” she muttered sullenly.  “Jim Denton had better take care—­” She stopped suddenly.  “I had forgotten,” she said bitterly; “I am helpless and in prison.”

“But I am sure you will soon be free, Miss Brady,” said Faith, “for I have utterly refused to appear against you, and—­”

“What!” exclaimed the woman in a startled whisper.  “You have refused to appear against me—­and you think me guilty?”

“If I knew you were guilty I would still refuse,” said Faith stoutly, “for if you sent that candy you must have been crazy!”

Slowly the frown lifted from the poor girl’s brow.  She kept gazing at Faith as though she could hardly credit her senses.

“You will not accuse me,” she stammered again.  “Well, that’s more mercy than I ever expected on earth or in heaven.”

“What is more, Maggie,” continued Faith, “I want you to be my friend.  As soon as you are out of this place we can see more of each other.”

This was a little too much for even Maggie Brady’s nature.  Her lips trembled suspiciously before she answered.

“Oh, I won’t get out; you mark my words.  Old Denton will send me up, or, if he don’t, the District Attorney will do it.”

“I don’t think so,” said Faith.  “They won’t if I can prevent it, and as I am the person most interested, I think I should have some voice in the matter.”

“You understand, I don’t admit that I did it, yet,” said Miss Brady, sullenly.  “I have never admitted a thing, not even to the lawyer.”

“Would you not be happier if you did admit it?” asked Faith, softly.  “I am sure it would relieve you to get it off of your conscience.”

“Oh, it ain’t troubling me much!” said the girl indifferently, “but I will say that I’m glad the stuff didn’t kill you!”

“But it might have killed Sam Watkins if the dog had not happened to be there.  Why, Miss Brady, just think; you might have killed a dozen people!”

The woman shuddered and turned away her face.

“Well, as it didn’t kill any one there’s some hope for me,” she said, “and I want to live long enough to get square with Jim Denton!”

“What has he done to you?” cried Faith, impulsively.  “I can’t think what he could do to make you hate him so bitterly.”

“Hate him!” cried the girl.  “Me hate Jim Denton!  Why, you don’t know what you are talking about!  Would I be jealous if I hated him?”

“But you certainly can’t love him,” said Faith, with another blush.  “If you did you could not harm him so much as in your thoughts.  You would be glad to suffer anything to be able to protect him.”

“Oh, I’ve protected him all right,” said the girl, with a sneer; then she straightened up suddenly and said: 

“I want to ask you a favor.  I want you to bring old Denton down here,” she said eagerly.  “Bring him yourself and let Fairbanks come with you.  Come any day you like.  I’m not particular.”