"What is Andrews' attitude in this matter?"
Andrews was Shelby's District Attorney.
Black's answer was like the man.
"I saw him for one minute an hour ago. I think, at present, he is inclined to be both deaf and dumb, but if he's driven to action, he will act. And, judge, this man Flannagan isn't going to stop where he is."
"Black, be merciful to my misery. What does this man know? Have you any idea?"
"No, judge, I haven't. He's as tight as a drum,—and as noisy. It is possible—just possible that he's as empty. A few days will tell."
"I cannot wait for a few days. I hardly feel as if I could wait a few hours. Oliver must come, even if—if the consequences are likely to be fatal. An Ostrander once accused cannot skulk. Oliver has been accused and—Send that!" he quickly cried, pulling forward the telegram he had been writing.
Mr. Black took up the telegram and read:
Come at once. Imperative. No delay and no excuse.
ARCHIBALD OSTRANDER.