Converse availed himself of the opportunity, but slowly and with an unaccountable hesitancy of manner. His brow was knotted, and he sat pondering.
"After all," he began at length, "it's going to be a hard matter for me to tell you just what you ought to know."
"Why?" asked the lawyer, surprised at this reluctant confidence.
Converse eyed him narrowly a moment; and then, evidently, his mind changed.
"No, I am not going to tell you anything—now," he said, grimly. "I didn't send for you to hear me talk, but to hear what Miss Westbrook has to say. I can't anticipate how her words will affect you, Mr. Mountjoy; but whatever their tenor, pray do not forget that I still have charge of this case, and until I am ready—"
During his last words Joyce had arisen and approached the speaker. Now she interrupted by laying a hand upon his arm.
"Then let me speak," she said, "while I can. Let me tell what I started to when I was interrupted." She turned and faced Mountjoy.
"It is true that Mr. Howe and my brother have been keeping something back, but when you hear what it is, see if you can blame them. When Mobley testified at the inquest that he had no reason to believe any other person was in the Nettleton Building besides those known to be present, he uttered merely the truth; he was assailed by a great fear; but at that moment he did not know that I had not yet departed. Oh, dear me!" she suddenly exclaimed; "the truth sometimes is so hard to tell—so hard! What I have to say seems, even to myself, so wild and impossible, that I sometimes wonder if I am not the victim of a wretched nightmare. But, Mr. Mountjoy—Mr. Converse—I trust you will believe me." She clasped her hands and looked an earnest appeal from one to the other.
The lawyer now was grave, his thin features yielding no decipherable expression; Converse's mien was wholly encouraging and sympathetic.
"Pshaw, Miss Westbrook," said the latter, heartily, "don't let such a doubt worry you for an instant. You have no idea what my credulity will stand."