After one of these interviews Pickles went home and consulted Sue.  
"Cinderella," he said, "am I to act as yer prince or not?"
 
"I dunno wot hever yer means, Pickles."
 
"Well, my beauty, 'tis jest this—the Prince rescued Cinderella from her cruel sisters, and I want ter rescue you from the arms of justice. You has a wery shameful accusation hanging over you, Cinderella; you is, in short, hiding from the law. I can set yer free. Shall I?"
 
Sue's plump face had grown quite thin during the anxieties of the past month, and now it scarcely lighted up as she answered Pickles:
 
"I want ter be set free, but I don't want ter be set free in your way."
 
"'Tis the only way, Cinderella. The man, Peter Harris, is the guilty party. He tuk that 'ere locket; he put it in yer pocket. I don't know how he did it, nor why he did it, but I do know that no one else did it. I have jest come from him, and lor' bless yer! I have had him on the torture hooks. I made-b'lieve as you were to be tried next week, and I axed him to come to the trial. I could a'most see him shivering at the bare thought, but fur hall that he did not dare but say he'd come. Now, Cinderella, ef you were to allow me to manage it, and I wer to get you and he face to face, why, he'd jest have to confess. I'd have a couple o' witnesses handy, and we'd write it down wot he said, and you'd be set free. I'd manage so to terrify him aforehand that he'd have ter confess——"
 
"And then he'd be put in prison?" said Sue.
 
"Why, in course; and well he'd deserve it. He's the right party to go, fur he's guilty. Yes, shameful guilty, too."
 
"He couldn't manage to run away and escape afterwards?"
 
Pickles laughed. "You think as I'd help him, maybe. Not a bit o' me! I don't harbor no guilty parties, Cinderella, as I ha' told yer heaps and heaps o' times. No, he's guilty, and he goes ter prison; there ain't nothink hard in sending him ter prison."131
 
"It ha' seemed ter me often lately, Pickles, as it must be harder to lie in prison guilty than not guilty—you ha'nt, nothink ter trouble yer mind ef yer ain't guilty."
 
"Well then, I s'pose, in that case, as yer'll give yerself hup."
 
"I'd a deal rayther be in hiding with yer, Pickles; but I don't feel as ef I could put Mr. Harris in prison."
 
"Then you must go yerself, fur this thing can't go on fur ever."
 
Sue looked frightened, and her commonplace gray eyes fell to the ground. She took up the poker and began to trace a pattern on the floor: it was as intricate as her own fate just now. She was a little heroine, however, and her noble thoughts redeemed all plainness from her face when at last she spoke:
 
"Once, Pickles, arter mother died we was brought down wery low. I had a dreadful influenzy, and I couldn't nohow go to the machining, and we were near starving. Mr. Harris lent me a shilling that time, and we pulled through. Another ti............