“Yes, just so. I was coming to that,” Romer interposed. “We’ve sent for her, and she’ll get here before long. But what I was going to say is this: Mr. Orson makes it a condition that before bail is accepted, she be required to—to plead.”
“Well?” queried Hetzel.
“Well, you see, she must put in her plea of not guilty in—in open court.”
“What!” cried Arthur. “Subject her to that humiliation? Drag her up to the bar of a crowded court-room, and—and—Oh, it will kill her! You might as well kill her outright.”
“Is this absolutely necessary?” asked Hetzel.
“Mr. Orson made it a sine qua non,” replied Romer; “and if you’ll listen to me for a moment, I’ll tell you why.”
He paused, gnawed his mustache for an instant, at length resumed, “You know, Ripley, we never should have gone at this case, at all, except for you. That’s so, isn’t it? All right. Now, what I want to make plain is that we’re, not to blame. You started us, didn’t you? Well and good. We unearthed that old indictment, which otherwise might have lain moldering in its pigeon-hole till the day of doom, we unearthed it simply because you urged us to. We never should have moved in the matter, except for you. I want you to confess that this is a true statement of the facts.”
“Oh, yes; it’s true,” groaned Arthur.
“All right, Ripley. That’s just what I wanted to bring out. Now I can pass on to point two. Point two is this. I suppose you’re very sorry for what’s happened. I know we are—at least, I am—awfully sorry. And what’s more, I feel—I feel—hang it, I feel uncommonly friendly toward you, Ripley, old boy. Don’t you understand? I want to do all I can to get you out of this confounded mess. And so, what I went to work to do with Mr. Orson was not only to induce him to take bail, but also, don’t you see, to get him to drop the case. What I urged upon him was this. I said, ’Look here, Mr. Orson, we didn’t start this business, did we? Then why the deuce should we press it? The chances of conviction aren’t great, and anyhow we’ve got our hands full enough, without raking up worm-eaten indictments. I say, as long as she has turned out to be who she is, I say, let’s leave matters in statu quo.’ That’s what I said to Mr. Orson.”
“By Jove, Romer, you—you’re a brick,” was the most Arthur could respond. There was a frog in his voice.