�Perhaps your friend—he is your friend?—would glance over it—or I could put the case in a few words if you have time?� Granice�s voice shook like his hand. If this chance escaped him he felt that his last hope was gone. McCarren and the stranger looked at each other, and the former glanced at his watch.
�I�m sorry we can�t stay and talk it over now, Mr. Granice; but my friend has an engagement, and we�re rather pressed—�
Granice continued to proffer the paper. �I�m sorry—I think I could have explained. But you�ll take this, at any rate?�
The stranger looked at him gently. �Certainly—I�ll take it.� He had his hand out. �Good-bye.�
�Good-bye,� Granice echoed.
He stood watching the two men move away from him through the long light hall; and as he watched them a tear ran down his face. But as soon as they were out of sight he turned and walked hastily toward his room, beginning to hope again, already planning a new statement.
Outside the building the two men stood still, and the journalist�s companion looked up curiously at the long monotonous rows of barred windows.
�So that was Granice?�
�Yes—that was Granice, poor devil,� said McCarren.
�Strange case! I suppose there�s never been one just like it? He�s still absolutely convinced that he committed that murder?�