“What is it?” Antrim demanded.
“B’gosh, I’ve proved too much!” said the reporter. “Can’t you see? The bullet that made this hole in the wall was fired from about where you stand. By Jove! that lets young Langford out, but say, it puts Brant in head over ears!”
Antrim dropped his end of the tape and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Just the same, I don’t believe it,” he said doggedly. “And, what’s more, I never will until Brant admits it himself.”
“Bully for you!” cried Jarvis heartily. “You are the kind of a friend to have at a pinch! Well, there is nothing more to be found out here. Let’s go down and have a drink, and then you’ll tell me more about that burglary business. I was so full of this other thing that I didn’t quite catch on.”
“No drinks,” said Antrim briefly when they were once more in the street and Jarvis was pointing for a barroom. “Come up to Mrs. Seeley’s with me, if you like, and I’ll tell you and show you all there is to be heard and seen.”
Jarvis acquiesced, grumbling, and the chief clerk was as good as his word. But if the reporter made any fresh discoveries in Brant’s room he kept his own counsel. By this time Antrim was catching at straws. The meeting with Jarvis and the experiment with the tape measure in the card room damped his courage, and left his belief in Brant’s innocence more nearly shaken than it had been at any time during the eventful day. None the less, he remained steadfast, as his last word to Jarvis testified.
“You are interested in getting to the bottom of this thing on general principles, aren’t you?” he asked, as he let the reporter out at the street door.
“Sure thing.”
“I supposed so. Well, you just go ahead on the supposition that Brant didn’t do it, and you will be more likely to succeed. Good night.”
“You are a crank,” said the reporter, laughing, as he ran down the steps.