I wish to heavens I had done so at Christmas, and then
all this misery would have been spared."
As soon as Ned had been led back to the cell Mr. Porson obtained
permission to visit him. He found him in a strange humor.
"Well, my poor boy," he began, "this is a terrible business."
"Who do you mean it is a terrible business for, Mr. Porson, me or
him?"
Ned spoke in a hard unnatural voice, without the slightest tone of
trouble or emotion. Mr. Porson perceived at once that his nerves
were brought up to such a state of tension by the events of the
preceding forty-eight hours that he was scarce responsible for what
he was saying.
"I think I meant for you, Ned. I cannot pretend to have any feeling
for the man who is dead, especially when I look at your face."
"Yes, it is not a nice position for me," Ned said coldly, "just
at the age of seventeen to be suspected of the murder of one's
stepfather, and such a nice stepfather too, such a popular man in
the town! And not only suspected, but with a good chance of being
hung for it."
"Ned, my dear boy," Mr. Porson said kindly, "don't talk in that
way. You know that we, your friends, are sure that you did not do
it."
"Are you quite sure, sir?" Ned said. "I am not quite sure myself.
I know I should have done it if I had had the chance. I thought
over all sorts of ways in which I might kill him, and I wouldn't
quite swear that I did not think of this plan and carry it out,
though it doesn't quite seem to me that I did.
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