The Just and the Unjust Part 31

"The situation may become intolerable, General Herbert! Suppose I am held for the murder--suppose a long trial follows; think what she will suffer, the uncertainty, the awful doubt of the outcome, although she knows,--she must know I am innocent."

"Of course, of course!" cried the general hastily, for these were points he did not wish to discuss.

"It's a serious matter when you consider the possibility of an indictment," said North soberly enough.

"That's true; yet we mustn't count the cost now, or at any future time.

But I promised Elizabeth I'd come back at once. What shall I say to her, North?"

"Tell her that her letter has changed the whole aspect of things for me.

You must try to make her feel the fresh hope she has given me," John replied, extending his hand.

"Conklin!" called the general. He took North's hand. "Good night; I'm infinitely sorry to leave you here, North, but I suppose it can't be helped--"

The sheriff entered the room while he was yet speaking.

"Finished your chat, General?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, Conklin. Good night. Good night, North," and Elizabeth's father hurried from the room.

For a moment North stood silent, staring absently at the door that had just closed on the general's burly figure. He still held Elizabeth's letter in his hand. In fancy he was seeing her as she had bent above it, her face tender, compa.s.sionate; and then there rose the vision of that crowded room with its palpable atmosphere, its score of curious faces all turned toward him in eager expectation. In the midst of these unworthy surroundings, her face, beautiful and high bred, eluded him; the likeness, even as he saw it, was lost, nor could he call it back.

Slowly but certainly that day's experience was fixing itself unalterably in his memory. He caught the pungent reek from the wood-stove, and mingling with it the odor of strong cheap tobacco filled his nostrils again; he was left with the very dregs of sordid shameful things.

The sheriff touched him on the arm.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE GAMBLER'S THEORY

Gilmore, leaving his apartment, paused to light a cigar, then sauntered down the steps and into the street. As he did so he saw Marshall Langham come from the post-office, half a block distant, and hurry across the Square. Gilmore strode after him.

"Oh, say, Marsh, I want to see you!" he called when he had sufficiently reduced the distance that separated him from his friend.

Instantly Langham paused, turning a not too friendly face toward the gambler.

"You want to see me?" he asked.

"Didn't I say so?" demanded Gilmore, as he gained a place at his side.

"Where are you going, to the office?"

"Yes, I have some letters to answer," and Langham quickened his pace.

Gilmore kept his place at the lawyer's elbow. For a moment there was silence between them, and then Gilmore said:

"You got away from McBride's in a hurry Sat.u.r.day; why didn't you wait and see the finish?"

Langham made no answer to this, and Gilmore, after another brief silence, turned on him with an unexpected question:

"How would you like to be in North's shoes, Marsh?" As he spoke, the gambler rested a hand on Langham's shoulder. He felt him shrink from the physical contact. "Gives you a chill just to think of it, doesn't it?"

he said. "I suppose Moxlow believes there's the making of a pretty strong case against him; eh, Marsh?"

"I don't know; I can't tell what he thinks," said Langham briefly.

"But in North's place, back there in the jail in one of those brand-new iron cages over the yard, how would you feel? That's what I want to know!"

Langham met his glance for an instant and then his eyes fell. He sensed the insinuation that was back of Gilmore's words.

"Can't you put yourself in his place, with the evidence, such as it is, all setting against you?"

"I'm due at the office," said the lawyer suddenly.

Gilmore took his arm.

"If North didn't kill McBride, who did?" he persisted.

"Why do you ask me such questions?" demanded Langham resentfully.

"My lord--can't we consider the matter?" asked the gambler laughing.

"What's the use? Here, I've got to go to the office, Andy--" and he sought to release himself, but Gilmore retained his hold.

"I suppose you are going to see North?" he asked.

Langham came to a sudden stop.

"What's that?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely.

"You have been his intimate for years; surely you are too good a friend to turn your back on him now!"

"If he wants me, he'll send for me!" muttered Langham.

"Do you mean you aren't _going_ to him, Marsh?" asked the gambler with well simulated astonishment.

"He knows where I'm to be found," said Langham, striding forward again, "and, d.a.m.n it, this is no concern of yours!"

"Well, by thunder!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Gilmore.

"I don't need any points from you, Andy!" said Langham, with a sullen sidelong glance at his companion.

They had crossed the Square, and Langham now halted at the curb.

"Good-by, Andy!" he said, and shook himself free of the other's detaining hand.

"Hold on a minute, Marsh!" objected Gilmore.