“I asked you to come over because I wanted to have a talk with you about Brant,” the judge went on. “You know him better than any of us, and I thought you might have some suggestions to offer. He mustn’t be allowed to hang himself without benefit of clergy.”
“That is exactly what he is going to do,” replied Antrim, who had been to see the prisoner in the city jail during the afternoon. “He won’t talk about bail; and I can’t get him to listen to a word about having a lawyer.”
“What does he say?” queried the judge.
“As nearly nothing as a man can and keep on talking.”
“Do you know anything about the affair yourself, Harry?—any more than the newspapers tell, I mean.”
“How much do you know?” asked Antrim cautiously, not wishing to betray Dorothy.
The judge smiled. “I know all that Dorothy can tell me,” he rejoined.
“All right; then that lets me out, though I haven’t much to add. We were out together nearly all Thursday night, looking for Will, and we arranged to go out again last night. Brant seemed to have found out something during the day, for in the evening he gave me a description of this man Harding, and told me I’d be likely to find him and Will together. When we separated I was to go to the hotels and lodging houses, and he was to make the round among the dives.”
The judge remembered his talk with Brant after the Draco raid and William’s first home-bringing, and was once more able to put two and two together. “It is very evident that there are some earlier chapters to the story,” he said, “and if Brant won’t tell us about them we must find some one who will. It may be there are extenuating circumstances in the background which will help out at the trial.”
He rose and pressed the bell-push; and Antrim made haste to define his own position before an interruption should slay the opportunity.