She sat up very straight at this and the sensitive chin quivered a little. “That is a hard question, Harry. If it wasn’t Mr. Brant——”
“I know what you are thinking about,” he broke in. “But just leave Will out of it entirely; try to forget that he was there.”
“If I could do that, the question—your question—would answer itself.”
“That is all I want to know. Now I have believed all along that Brant didn’t do it; and a little while ago I found some papers which go to show that he could have no possible motive for doing it. It isn’t necessary to go over the whole thing, but you will understand what I mean when I tell you that these papers are Brant’s, and any time he wanted to get rid of Harding all he had to do was to turn them over to the district attorney of Pitkin County. That would have been the end of Mr. Murderer Harding as soon as they could catch and hang him.”
“You say you found these papers—where?”
“In my safe. Brant gave them to me to keep for him.”
“Do you know why he did that?”
“No.”
“I do.” She tugged at the fingers of her glove and a light came into her eyes that told Antrim more than she would have admitted by word of mouth under torture. “It was because he was afraid to keep them; afraid he might be tempted to let the law do what everybody is saying he did with his own hand. Harry, he is innocent!”
“Of course he is; that is what I’ve been saying all along. Now there are two of us who believe it, and something has got to be done quick.”