“What is it?” she asked faintly.
“Why, it is the simplest thing in the world! Brant won’t talk to any of us, but if you will go to him——”
“O Harry—I can’t, I can’t!” she wailed.
But he would not be turned aside. “Yes, you can, Dorothy, and you must. It is life and death with him now. Only this morning Forsyth told me it was all up with him. Think of a man being hanged for a thing that he didn’t do; think how awful it would be if you had to remember that you might have done something to prevent it, and didn’t! Think of—think of Isabel, Dorothy, and be a brave little sister of mercy, as you have always been to every one in trouble.”
“Oh, don’t, don’t!” she pleaded pitifully. “Don’t say any more, Harry. You haven’t any idea of what you are asking me to do, but I—I’ll go. Can we do it now—right away—before I have to go home and face them all again?”
Antrim made a quick dash for his hat and coat, and they were halfway to the jail before she spoke again.
“Isn’t it a very dreadful thing for me to do?” she asked shamefacedly. “Do—do ladies ever go to see the prisoners?—alone, I mean.”
“I don’t know; and you must not care, Dorothy—not for this once. I’ll go as far as the corridor with you and wait till you come out. You must just keep saying to yourself that it is life and death; and—and Isabel’s happiness,” he added softly.
She caught the inspiration of his unselfishness, and answered it in kind.
“You are very good and noble, Harry. I’ll remember; and I’ll try to do my part—as you are doing yours. Is this the place? Oh, what a terrible Castle of Despair!”