e of throwing Moxlow off on a fresh scent?"

"That's a very remarkable point of view!" said the judge, with a
mirthless laugh.

In the utter selfishness that his fear had engendered, it seemed a
monstrous thing to Langham that any one should wish to clear North, in
whose conviction lay his own salvation. More than this, he had every
reason to hate North, and if he were hanged it would be but a roundabout
meting out of justice for that hideous wrong he had done him, the shame
of which was ever present. He saw one other thing clearly, the necessity
that Gilmore should be left alone; for the very moment the gambler felt
the judge was moving against him, that moment would come his fierce
demands that he be called off--that Marshall quiet him, no matter how.

"Have you been near North since his arrest?" asked the judge, apparently
speaking at random.

"No," said Marshall.

"May I ask if you are offended because of his choice of counsel?"

"That has nothing to do with it!" said the younger man, moving
impatiently in his chair.

"I do not like your attitude in this matter, Marshall; I like it as
little as I understand it. But I have given my warning. Keep clear of
that fellow Gilmore, do not involve yourself in his fortunes, or the
result may prove disastrous to you!"

"I want him let alone!" said Marshall doggedly, speaking with desperate
resolution.

"Why?" asked the judge.

"Because it is better for all concerned; you--you don't know what you're
meddling with--"

He quitted his chair and fell to pacing to and fro. His father's glance,
uncertain and uneasy, followed him as he crossed and recrossed the room.

"I find I can not agree with you, Marshall!" said the judge at length.
"I do not like hints, and unless you can deal with me with greater
frankness than you have yet done, there is not much use in prolonging
this discussion."

"As you like, then," replied Marshall, wheeling on him with sudden
recklessness. "I want to tell you just this--you'll not hurt Gilmore,
but--"

Words failed him, and his voice died away on his white and twitching
lips into an inarticulate murmur.

He struggled vainly to recover the mastery of himself, but his fear, now
the growth of his many days and nights of torture, would not let him
finish what he had started to say.

"Very good, I don't want to hurt anybody, but I do want to find that
man, whoever he is, that you and Gilmore are shielding; the man Joe
Montgomery saw cros