* * * * *
Toward noon Watson came in. "I saw Brauer yesterday and again this morning… What did you do to make him so sore?"
Fred shrugged. "I guess I took a superior air… A man who plays up his honesty is always nasty… I meant well—most fools do!"
Watson stared uncomprehendingly. "The best thing I can get this man Brauer to agree to is a compromise… He's eager for his pound of flesh."
"What do you mean?"
"He wants to punish you … even the score some way… After I saw him yesterday I went out and talked to Hilmer… We outlined a plan that Brauer is willing to accept. Hilmer has a pull, you know … and if the scheme goes through there'll be no trial, no notoriety, nothing disagreeable… We'll make it plain to the authorities that you gave out this check when you were drunk. Habitual intemperance … that's to be our plea… It means a few months for you at the state's Home for Inebriates … a bit of a rest, really… I'd say you were extremely lucky."
Fred was beyond so futile an emotion as anger. Somehow he was not even surprised, but he had energy enough left for sarcasm. He looked squarely at Watson as he said:
"Why not tell the truth? If any judge is willing to convict me on my intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really."
"Yes, but how can you prove it?"
"Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the—"