He read on and on, with a darkening brow and an evil glint showing in his eyes. Page by page he perused Saurez’ deposition until he reached the end. Then he got to his feet, shaking the paper at her head.
“You were in on this,” he snarled. “This is what you were in Martinez’ office to get. You’re wise to this cursed scheme to help Weir make my father and Vorse and Burkhardt and Judge Gordon out a gang of swindlers. So they trimmed his father of something––at least I fancy they did, and I hope to God they did, the coward! And you were in with them! You’re not quite the little white angel you’d have people believe, are you? Not quite so innocent and simple as you’ve made me think, anyway. Well, I’ll square all that. That slippery snake, Martinez, I’ll twist his neck the minute I get back to town. I’ll bet a thousand it was framed up to use this when Weir was arrested––but he’ll never use it now!”
He glared at the girl with a face distorted by rage.
“We’ll just burn it here and now,” he continued. “Then we’ll be sure it won’t be used.”
Janet gripped her hands tightly, while her lips opened to utter a wild protest at this desecration. What the document contained she did not yet know, except that it was evidence that fixed upon the men named guilt for some past deed in which Weir had suffered and which would bring them to account. But something more than protest was needed, she saw in a flash, to deflect the man from his purpose and save the sheets from the flame.
She shut her lips for an instant to choke the cry, then said with an assumption of unconcern:
“Go ahead. I didn’t want your father to see it, in any case.”
The paper had almost reached the candle, but the 157 hand that held it paused. Sorenson stared at it, and from it to her. At last a malignant curl of his lips uncovered his teeth.
“Oh, you didn’t want him to see it,” he sneered. “If that’s so, I’ll just save it. He’ll be interested in reading what your friends have prepared to destroy his good name and reputation.”