“And now, having shown our unity of interest with young Mr. Turner, there can be no harm in telling us where that beer is, can there?”
He turned toward the kitchen door—for Nan Kilfillan stood there. Her eyes were red and swollen. Attorney Smith hastily excused himself and went away, and Nan came into the kitchen.
“Oh, Mr. Gubb!” she exclaimed. “You will get Snooks out of jail, won’t you? It would break my heart if he was sent to the penitentiary, and I know he has done nothing wrong! He is depending on you, Mr. Gubb. I brought you ten dollars—it is all I have left of last month’s wages, but it will help a little, won’t it?”
“Thank you,” said Philo Gubb, taking the money. “I cannot estimate in advance what the cost of his clearance will be. It may be more, and it may be less. It is a complicated case. I am just about going to get down from this ladder and start working on it vigorously. If you—”
He stopped.
“If you wish to help us in this case, Miss Kilfillan,” he said, “will you go to the jail and ask Snooks where is the beer and the beer-opener?”
“Where is—” Her face went white. “What beer and what beer-opener?” she asked tensely.
“Seven bottles and a beer-opener,” said Philo Gubb.
“Oh!” she moaned. “And he said he didn’t do it! He swore he didn’t do it! Oh, Snooks, how could you—how could you!”