The lawyer observed the embarrassment his question had caused, and instantly turned pale, notwithstanding the hardihood which a long career at the bar had given him.
“Ferris,” he pursued, in a voice he strove hard to keep steady, “we have always been good friends, in spite of the many tilts we have had together before the court. Will you be kind enough to inform me if your suspicions are founded upon evidence collected by yourself, or at the instigation of parties professing to know more about this murder than they have hitherto revealed?”
Mr. Ferris could not fail to understand the true nature of this question, and out of pure friendship answered quietly:
“I have allowed myself to look with suspicion upon this Mansell—for it is Mrs. Clemmens’ nephew who is at present occupying our attention—because the facts which have come to light in his regard are as criminating in their nature as those which have transpired in reference to Mr. Hildreth. The examination into this matter, which my duty requires, has been anything but pleasant to me, Mr. Orcutt. The evidence of such witnesses as will have to be summoned before the Grand Jury, is of a character to bring open humiliation, if not secret grief, upon persons for whom I entertain the highest esteem.”
The pointed way in which this was said convinced Mr. Orcutt that his worst fears had been realized. Turning partly away, but not losing his hold upon the other’s arm, he observed with what quietness he could:
“You say that so strangely, I feel forced to put another question to you. If what I have to ask strikes you with any surprise, remember that my own astonishment and perplexity at being constrained to interrogate you in this way, are greater than any sensation you can yourself experience. What I desire to know is this. Among the witnesses you have collected against this last suspected party, there are some women, are there not?”
The District Attorney gravely bowed.
“Ferris, is Miss Dare amongst them?”
“Orcutt, she is.”
With a look that expressed his secret mistrust the lawyer gave way to a sudden burst of feeling.
“Ferris,” he wrathfully acknowledged, “I may be a fool, but I don’t see what she can have to say on this subject. It is impossible she should know anything about the murder; and, as for this Mansell—” He made a violent gesture with his hand, as if the very idea of her having any acquaintance with the nephew of Mrs. Clemmens were simply preposterous.
The District Attorney, who saw from this how utterly ignorant the other was concerning Miss Dare’s relations to the person named, felt his embarrassment increase.
“Mr. Orcutt,” he replied, “strange as it may appear to you, Miss Dare has testimony to give of value to the prosecution, or she would not be reckoned among its witnesses. What that testimony is, I must leave to her discretion to make known to you, as she doubtless will, if you question her with sufficient consideration. I never forestall matters myself, nor would you wish me to tell you what would more becomingly come from her own lips. But, Mr. Orcutt, this I can say: that if it had been given me to choose between the two alternatives of resigning my office and of pursuing an inquiry which obliges me to submit to the unpleasantness of a judicial investigation a person held in so much regard by yourself, I would have given up my office with pleasure, so keenly do I feel the embarrassment of my position and the unhappiness of yours. But any mere resignation on my part would have availed nothing to save Miss Dare from appearing before the Grand Jury. The evidence she has to give in this matter makes the case against Mansell as strong as that against Hildreth, and it would be the duty of any public prosecutor to recognize the fact and act accordingly.”
Mr. Orcutt, who had by the greatest effort succeeded in calming himself through this harangue, flashed sarcastically at this last remark, and surveyed Mr. Ferris with a peculiar look.
“Are you sure,” he inquired in a slow, ironical tone, “that she has not succeeded in making it stronger?”
The look, the tone, were unexpected, and greatly startled Mr. Ferris. Drawing nearer to his friend, he returned his gaze with marked earnestness.
“What do you mean?” he asked, with secret anxiety.
But the wary lawyer had already repented this unwise betrayal of his own doubts. Meeting his companion’s eye with a calmness that amazed himself, he remarked, instead of answering:
“It was through Miss Dare, then, that your attention was first drawn to Mrs. Clemmens’ nephew?”
“No,” disclaimed Mr. Ferris, hastily. “The detectives already had their eyes upon him. But a hint from her went far toward determining me upon pursuing the matter,” he allowed, seeing that his friend was determined upon hearing the truth.
“So then,” observed the other, with a stern dryness that recalled his manner at the bar, “she opened a communication with you herself?”
“Yes.”
It was enough. Mr. Orcutt dropped the arm of Mr. Ferris, and, with his usual hasty bow, turned shortly away. The revelation which he believed himself to have received in this otherwise far from satisfactory interview, was one that he could not afford to share—that is, not yet; not while any hope remained that circumstances would so arrange themselves as to make it unnecessary for him to do so. If Imogene Dare, out of her insane desire to free Gouverneur Hildreth from the suspicion that oppressed him, had resorted to perjury and invented evidence tending to show the guilt of another party—and remembering her admissions at their last interview and the language she had used in her letter of farewell, no other conclusion offered itself—what alternative was left him but to wait till he had seen her before he proceeded to an interference that would separate her from himself by a gulf still greater than that which already existed between them? To be sure, the jealousy which consumed him,
