“I don’t know well enough to make it clear; but Harry and one of Mr. Forsyth’s young men made some measurements, and they both say that the shot couldn’t have been fired from where Will was sitting; that it must have been fired from the direction of the door.”
“From the door?” A great desire to live and love and be loved came quickly to Brant, and he made haste to put it away before it should possess him. “I wish I had known that sooner, but it is too late now. I wasn’t near the door; I was trying to get between them when the shot was fired.”
“It must not be too late!” cried Dorothy eagerly. “Oh, why didn’t they tell you? Why——”
She broke off abruptly and struggled out of his arms at the sound of a footstep in the corridor. It was the turnkey coming to release her, and there was time for no more than a breathless question.
“May I tell—” she began; and he bent over her till his lips touched her forehead.
“I am yours in life or in death,” he said gently. “Do with me what seems best to you, my darling.”
A moment later she had rejoined Antrim in the corridor, but neither spoke until they were out of the building. It was in the half-light between day and dusk when they reached the street, and the chief clerk curbed his impatience until they were hurrying to catch the North Denver car. Then it slipped the leash.
“What luck?” he demanded, as they threaded the crowded sidewalk in Larimer Street. “Did you find out anything? Would he talk to you?”
Dorothy blushed hotly and drew down her veil.
“Ye-yes, he talked very freely, and I found out a great many things. Wait till we get out of the crowd and I will tell you.”