"I am his lawyer, the only one he's got so far as I know."
"Yes, I reckon the judge wouldn't care to take his case." The sheriff wagged his head. "He's no ways rich—not beyond four dollars and seventy-five cents and a pocket knife and some keys on a ring. He's broke, all right."
"He's never been anything else," said Anne Oglesby, hotly. "He's never had a chance. Do you want to keep a man from his chance all his life—do you want to help railroad him to the gallows? That's for the courts, not for you. Do you want to hang a man—are you anxious to begin that?"
Cowles' face grew pale. "God knows I don't! I never done that in my life, and I don't want to have to, neither. Don't talk about that to me, Miss."
"Then don't talk to me any more about those other things. I give you my word I'll not try to get him out, but I want to see him—I must see him—he'll want to see me. Don't you know—we've—we've just begun to be engaged."
"Some things I can't understand no ways," pondered Sheriff Cowles. "He's nobody, so far as I can learn. You're the Judge's ward—why, you're rich, they say."
"I'd give every cent I have to see him walk out right now. I suppose you were young once yourself. Were you ever in love, Mr. Cowles?"
"Yes," said the sheriff, slowly. "I was—I am yet, some. I can remember back. I don't believe I ought to let you in. But I'm afraid I'll have to, because you are young—like we all was once—and because you're in love. Did anyone see you coming over here?"
"I don't know; but all the town knows about him and me. Well, let them."
"You must promise not to help him in any way to get out—not to do anything you hadn't ought to do, nor against the law."