ly.

Unless he had been confident of that, he could not have loved her. His
task was to hand over to justice the guilty man, and not even his concern
for the woman he would marry could interfere with his seeing the thing
through.

After it was all over, he would come back to comfort her. Their new
happiness would counter-balance all. So he thought, with confidence.

A glance through the window showed him Greenleaf and Abrahamson coming
slowly up Manniston Road. It was eight o'clock. A few moments later he
and Mr. Fulton joined them on the sidewalk. They went at once to No. 9.

Bristow received them in his living room, the table still littered with
newspaper clippings on the Loutois kidnapping.

"If the rest of you don't mind," Braceway suggested, "we'd better close
the windows. We've a lot of talking to do, and we might as well keep
things to ourselves."

The effect of alertness which he always produced was more evident now
than ever. He kept his cane and himself in continual motion. While the
four other men seated themselves, he remained standing, facing them, his
back to the empty fire-place.

"Each of you," he said, "is vitally interested in what I've come here to
say. I asked you to have this conference because it affects each of us
directly."

His eyes shone, his chin was thrust forward, every ligament in his body
was strung taut. And yet, there was nothing of the theatric about him.
If he felt excitement, it was suppressed. Determination was the only
emotion of which he gave any sign.

"First, however," he supplemented in his light, conversational tone, "how
about you?" He indicated with a look Greenleaf and Bristow. "Have you
anything new, anything additional?"

With the windows shut, it was noticeably warm and close in the room.
Taking off his coat, he tossed it to the chair which had been placed for
him. In his white shirt, with dark trousers belted tightly over slender
hips, he looked almost boyish.

"No," Bristow answered. "The chief and I went over everything yesterday.
We couldn't find a single reason for changing our minds."

"About Carpenter?"

"Yes."

"You mean that's your position, yours and the chiefs," Braceway said
seriously. "As a matter of fact, the negro's not guilty."

"You mean that's your position," Bristow quoted back to him, his smile
indulgent.

"Yes. Carpenter's not guilty, and Morley's not guilty."

Mr. Fulton, who had the chair immediately on the lame man's left, was