“That’s the worst of it. They don’t take bail in—in—murder cases,”
“They don’t? Are you sure? Is it never done? We must move heaven and earth to induce them to, in this case.”
“It’s their rule. Romer might depart from it, she being—who she is. But I am afraid not.”
“Well, we must try, at any rate, and without dillydallying. Whom can you get to go upon her bond?”
“The only person I know would be Mr. Flint.”
“Then we must see Mr. Flint at once. Where does he live? Every minute is precious. We’ll ask him to be her bondsman. Then we’ll seek out Romer, and persuade him. If he’s got a grain of manhood in him, he won’t refuse. If we make haste, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be free before sundown to-night. Come—let’s be about it.”
Hetzel’s speech really inspired Arthur with a certain degree of hope and confidence. At all events, it was a relief to feel that he was doing something to repair the mischief he had wrought. So, in a hat borrowed from his chum, he led the way to Mr. Flint’s residence.
On the way thither he began, “To think that it was I who started the authorities upon her track—-I who urged them to prosecute her! And to think how the prosecution may end!”
Hetzel retorted, “End? I wish the end had come. I’m not afraid of the end. I know nothing of the circumstances of the case, but I do know—and you know, and we all know—that she never was guilty of murder. I know that we can prove it, too—establish her innocence beyond a shade of suspicion. We shall only need strength and patience to do that. You needn’t worry about the end.”
“But the meanwhile, then! Meanwhile, fancy what she thinks of me! Fancy her despair! Meanwhile, she—she may die—or—she may go mad—or kill herself.”