“I like you a whole lot, but—”
“Never mind the but—stop there. I’ll make you love me yet, and if doing this thing for you will help, I’ll willingly do it. Since I’m not incriminating an innocent man, I’m willing to let a guilty one go free. But Avice, if some guiltless person should be suspected,—I couldn’t then keep back the truth.”
“That’s why I want John Hemingway suspected. Then there is no danger of accusing an innocent person. If the police really think it was a man named Hemingway, they can’t do anything to Kane, but free him.”
“We’ll see,” and Judge Hoyt sighed. It was not an easy task he had undertaken, to fasten suspicion on a mythical character, but he would carry it through, if possible, because of the reward that was to be his. To do him justice, he didn’t think Avice was deeply in love with Landon, but rather, that her sympathies had been aroused by the man’s tragic position and perhaps by the injustice of his sudden and unexpected arrest.
And he fully believed that Landon, once freed, would turn to Mrs. Black and not to Avice. The judge felt that these two had known each other well and long before their recent meeting at the Trowbridge home, and that they were only biding their time to renew their relations, whatever they were or had been.
Judge Hoyt and Avice went together to the Tombs to see Landon. The application of Hoyt for permission was readily granted and the prisoner was brought to see them in the warden’s room.
Landon was in an aggravating mood. He was indifferent, almost jaunty in his demeanor, and Avice was really annoyed at him.
“Kane,” she said, earnestly, “I don’t know why you assume this light air, but it must be assumed. It can’t be your real feelings. Now, Judge Hoyt is willing to help you,—to help us. If you are indicted—”
“Nonsense! The Grand Jury’ll never indict me.”
“Why do you think they won’t?”