“Would you?” and a dangerous fire blazed in Hoyt’s eyes as he took a step nearer to her.
“No, no!” cried Avice, really alarmed, “not now. I mean some other time.”
“There’ll be times enough. You’ll have to spend the rest of your life getting used to seeing me headless. But Avice, I came to talk to you about that Hemingway note.”
“Yes, do. Will it clear Kane?”
“Why?” said the lawyer, a sudden anger coming into his eyes. “Do you love him?”
Avice looked at him. “Yes,” she said simply.
“Then he shall not be cleared!” and Hoyt’s voice was full of deep hatred. “Do you know it rests with me to free him from suspicion or not! Do you know that I hold his life in my hands?”
Avice looked at him in horror. “Do you mean,” she cried “that you would let him be suspected, knowing he is innocent?”
“On the contrary,” and Hoyt looked at her meaningly, “I know the only hope of freedom Landon has, is that letter found in your uncle’s desk. And I know,—” he paused.
“You know what?” said Avice, grasping a chair for support, as she felt herself giving away.