AN AWFUL RESPONSIBILITY
John Hardaway, although he was a solicitor in a very busy practice, did not keep his friend waiting for a moment. "Come in, Deane, old chap," he said. "Is this business or friendship?"
"Mostly business," declared Deane.
Hardaway glanced at the clock. "Twelve minutes, precisely," he said. "Fire away, there's a good fellow. You are not going to give me the affairs of the Incorporated Gold-Mines Association to look after, I suppose?"
"Not I," Deane answered. "They need a more subtle brain than yours, I am afraid. I have come to see you about the other affair."
The lawyer nodded. "You heard the result?" he asked. "We did what we could."
"Perhaps," Deane answered. "The only thing is that you did not do enough. I am perfectly convinced, Hardaway, that that man did not go there with the intention of murdering Sinclair."
"The evidence," Hardaway remarked, "was exceedingly awkward."
"Do you think," Deane asked, "that there is any chance of a reprieve?"
"As things stand at present," said Hardaway, "I am afraid not."