The choleric eyes of the president softened a little, and grew grave as they studied the impassive face of the young man.
"It's a strange situation, Mr. Grimm," he said evenly. "What do you say to withdrawing?"
"I am at your orders, Mr. President," was the reply.
"No one knows better what you have done than the gentlemen here at this table," the president went on slowly. "No one questions that you have done more than any other man could have done under the circumstances. We understand, I think, that indirectly you are asking immunity for an individual. I don't happen to know the liability of that individual under our law, but we can't make any mistake now, Mr. Grimm, and so—and so—" He stopped and was silent.
"I had hoped, Mr. President, that what I have done so far—and I don't underestimate it—would have, at least, earned for me the privilege of remaining in this case until its conclusion," said Mr. Grimm steadily. "If it is to be otherwise, of course I am at—"
"History tells us, Mr. Grimm," interrupted the president irrelevantly, "that the frou-frou of a woman's skirt has changed the map of the world. Do you believe," he went on suddenly, "that a man can mete out justice fairly, severely if necessary, to one for whom he has a personal regard?"
"I do, sir."
"Perhaps even to one—to a woman whom he might love?"
"I do, sir."
The president rose.