Part 24 (1/2)

”Very well, then; but there's another thing that you may clear up.... By the way, Pemmican, perhaps you don't know that Challoner has confessed?”

Pemmican's physiognomy lost its doleful appearance. And he cried joyfully:--

”Confessed? Gee, that's good--great! Confessed? Well, say, counsellor, it just had to come to that!”

”Yes,” conceded Murgatroyd; ”but there's another thing which bothers me, though I don't know that it complicates matters exactly. It's a mere detail again. Challoner says he shot his man in Room A in Cradlebaugh's; you say the quarrel took place there, that Hargraves went out first, and that Challoner followed him. Hargraves, as we know, was found dead in the street above. That's right--isn't it?”

”Sure,” returned Pemmican, positively. ”I didn't see him fire the shot; n.o.body saw that. It's a good thing, though, because between you and me, Prosecutor, notwithstanding my testimony I thought that you'd have some trouble in making out a case. Circ.u.mstances is something, but they ain't everything, you know.”

Murgatroyd agreed to this, and added:--

”We've got certainty now, because he's confessed--but he's mixed as to the place of the shooting. He thinks it was in your place--that you were present, that's all.”

Murgatroyd seemed satisfied. He sat down at his desk and from a drawer he drew a box of cigars. Now he leaned toward Pemmican and said confidentially:--

”Pemmican, I want your testimony in this case--I want it _right_. Have a cigar?”

Pemmican accepted, and finding a ready match in his pocket, struck it on the heel of his boot and lighted the cigar before the slow-moving Murgatroyd could pa.s.s him his matchbox.

”Thank you, counsellor, I have one,” he said, and blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. ”You can depend on me; I'll tell the truth--the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me--” His gaze returned again to the pigskin wallet on the desk. ”But say, I never saw that thing before.”

Murgatroyd picked it up and spoke in a still lower tone now.

”Pemmican, suppose I were to fill this with, well, say ten thousand dollars and give it to you; how would you testify in this case, eh?”

”But,” protested Pemmican, ”I never saw ten thousand dollars in it--No....”

”No,” repeated Murgatroyd; ”but if you should right now have it filled with ten thousand dollars, how would you testify for me?”

Pemmican stolidly shook his head and answered:

”To the truth, counsellor--I'm an honest man.”

Murgatroyd still persisted.

”How much would you take, Pemmican,” he went on, ”to swear that Challoner did not commit this crime?”

Pemmican started back in alarm, and once more shook his head.

”Counsellor, I'm an honest man,” he answered doggedly.

Murgatroyd gave it up as a bad job.

”You're honest, all right, Pemmican,” he said. ”You can go back now; but I'll have you down again before the trial, and together we'll go over the testimony carefully.” He placed his hand upon the other's arm. ”You see, I'm most particular about this case.” The next moment Mixley and McGrath entered and took Pemmican away.

Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Challoner arrived. She was accompanied by Stevens, the butler, carrying a large parcel, which he deposited on the prosecutor's table as directed. He was then dismissed; and when the door had closed on him, the man and the woman stood for a few minutes listening in silence to his retreating footsteps. Then in low, rapid tones Mrs. Challoner a.s.sured the prosecutor that she had accomplished her purpose without arousing the suspicions of any one--not even the servant. Murgatroyd noiselessly locked the door, and putting his hand upon the parcel on the table, looked at her interrogatively.