“I don’t know as yet, sir.  You see, up to now it isn’t with me even a suspicion.  If any one else told me that that sweet young lady had a hand in such a matter, I would think him a fool; but I am bound to follow my own conclusions.  I know well that just as unlikely persons have been proved guilty, when a whole court—­all except the prosecution who knew the facts, and the judge who had taught his mind to wait—­would have sworn to innocence.  I wouldn’t, for all the world, wrong such a young lady; more especial when she has such a cruel weight to bear.  And you will be sure that I won’t say a word that’ll prompt anyone else to make such a charge.  That’s why I speak to you in confidence, man to man.  You are skilled in proofs; that is your profession.  Mine only gets so far as suspicions, and what we call our own proofs—­which are nothing but ex parte evidence after all.  You know Miss Trelawny better than I do; and though I watch round the sick-room, and go where I like about the house and in and out of it, I haven’t the same opportunities as you have of knowing the lady and what her life is, or her means are; or of anything else which might give me a clue to her actions.  If I were to try to find out from her, it would at once arouse her suspicions.  Then, if she were guilty, all possibility of ultimate proof would go; for she would easily find a way to baffle discovery.  But if she be innocent, as I hope she is, it would be doing a cruel wrong to accuse her.  I have thought the matter over according to my lights before I spoke to you; and if I have taken a liberty, sir, I am truly sorry.”

“No liberty in the world, Daw,” I said warmly, for the man’s courage and honesty and consideration compelled respect.  “I am glad you have spoken to me so frankly.  We both want to find out the truth; and there is so much about this case that is strange—­so strange as to go beyond all experiences—­that to aim at truth is our only chance of making anything clear in the long-run—­no matter what our views are, or what object we wish to achieve ultimately!” The Sergeant looked pleased as he went on: 

“I thought, therefore, that if you had it once in your mind that somebody else held to such a possibility, you would by degrees get proof; or at any rate such ideas as would convince yourself, either for or against it.  Then we would come to some conclusion; or at any rate we should so exhaust all other possibilities that the most likely one would remain as the nearest thing to proof, or strong suspicion, that we could get.  After that we should have to—­”

Just at this moment the door opened and Miss Trelawny entered the room.  The moment she saw us she drew back quickly, saying: 

“Oh, I beg pardon!  I did not know you were here, and engaged.”  By the time I had stood up, she was about to go back.

“Do come in,” I said; “Sergeant Daw and I were only talking matters over.”

Whilst she was hesitating, Mrs. Grant appeared, saying as she entered the room:  “Doctor Winchester is come, miss, and is asking for you.”