“Haven't begun to work up the case for the Grand Jury yet?”
“No,” answered Farwell, in almost a whisper, his head hanging.
“Why,” Lafe said, in a tone of quiet surprise; “you haven't given all that up, have you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ain't that strange?” said Lafe. “What's the trouble?”
Knowles didn't answer. In fact, I felt mighty sorry for him.
All at once, Gorgett's manner changed; he threw away his cigar, the only time I ever saw him do it without lighting another at the end of it. His feet came down to the floor and he wheeled round on Farwell.
“I understand your wife's a mighty nice lady, Mr. Knowles.”
Farwell's head sank lower till we couldn't see his face, only his fingers working kind of pitifully.
“I guess you've had rather a bad night?” said Gorgett, inquiringly.