"You can bet on that, sir; I've served my day at the bar, out in the west there," with a comprehensive jerk of his thumb, "and I can tell you we get through some pretty tall work out there. Plenty of cases like the one you're interested in, you know; plenty of blood-letting, and many a pretty young woman mixed up in it all."
Philip winced; this classing of Patricia with the lawless crimes of a wild civilisation seemed little short of brutality, and brought home to him with terrible exactitude the attitude she had assumed, in the eyes of the public, by her association with crime.
The keen eyes of the official noted Philip's susceptibility, and he drew his own conclusions.
"Beg pardon if the subject's distressing," he said, not unkindly; "it's a pretty bad look-out as it stands, Mr. Tremain, and if I was a friend of the lady's, I should own to feeling uncommon squeamish. It takes a deal of evidence to get a warrant issued at any time, and specially against such a top-sawyer as Miss Hildreth. But there, that foreign Count, he's left no stone unturned; he's like one of those old blood-hounds down south, that used to track the niggers before the war. He's tracked to some purpose."
All this was horrible to Philip. It seemed to him he could not stand there and endure this man's crude criticisms and cruel deductions, passed so unconcernedly upon Patricia. To him each look was an open insult, each word a lash wherewith to strike at her; they brought the reality of her position before him with unvarnished accuracy.
She was no longer Miss Hildreth surrounded by her own little court, the cynosure of every eye, the honoured guest of every drawing-room, the reigning favourite of all society; she was only Patricia Hildreth, stripped of all accessories, a woman under arrest, a woman charged with murder, a prisoner awaiting the law; just as any other of the poor wretches within those hateful precincts awaited it, and with no more merciful outlook than had they. It was indeed, as he had said, horrible, incredible, maddening.
His silence had at length impressed itself upon his loquacious companion, who now sat looking up at him keenly, turning the visiting card round in his fingers. It was Philip who was the first to speak, coming back to his immediate surroundings with a start, and turning so sad a face, and such sorrow-haunted eyes, upon the little official, as to rouse to life all the dormant sympathy of his shallow soul.
"And the permit?" asked Philip, quietly. "I should like to use it now, if you please."
His very gentleness disarmed his opponent, who without further comment drew towards him a large volume, and filling in a blank order, tore it out noisily and handed it across the table. Mr. Tremain took it and folded it quickly without glancing at it. Each separate item in this horrible drama was agony to him; he had never fully recognised the gravity of Patricia's position until brought face to face with the official details of it.
"I've made it out as you wanted," said the superintendent a little protestingly, as Philip took up the scrap of paper, "it's available for any day and any hour, up to the official inquiry. You'd like to go to her now, perhaps." He touched an electric bell, and in the moment that passed before the summons was answered, said somewhat awkwardly: "I'm real sorry for the lady, Mr. Tremain, we all are. I've done what I can to make her comfortable, and let us hope her stay with us won't be a very long one. Woods," he continued, addressing the tall warder, who had entered as he was speaking, "take this gentleman to Miss Hildreth, and, look here, he's to come and go as he pleases, do you understand? Good morning, Mr. Tremain."