"Sure, sir; if you do it at once, with me along with you."
"Oh, certainly. I wouldn't lose the pleasure of your company!" mocked Porshinger. "And then you'll let me ride with you in my car to the magistrate's office?"
"No, I won't," Burke smiled. "We'll go in Mr. Lorraine's car. You might forget to tell your buzz man where to stop."
"My dear officer, do you know you're piling up a lot of trouble for yourself in the future?"
"I don't know nothin' at present but my warrant, Mr. Porshinger—so come along and do your telephonin', and then let's be off. It's four o'clock now, and if the magistrate's office is closed, it's you to the jail in default of bail—understand?"
"What!" cried Porshinger.
"That's it," replied Burke.
"Then let us be going, by all means," said Porshinger sourly. He crossed to where Lorraine was sitting. "It's a new rôle for you, Mr. Complaisant Husband—to defend your wife!" he sneered. "You would better have stirred yourself after Amherst—it might have been to more purpose. Now—you're brave enough to drag her name through the mire of a court—and wash all your dirty linen, including hers. I don't want to tell all I know regarding Mrs. Lorraine, but I'll tell enough to show that there was no assault. I did kiss her—a number of times. She's a very kissable lady—but it wasn't by force. Oh, no!"
Lorraine gripped his chair arms until his knuckles were white, but he controlled himself. Then he arose.
"It was because I knew you were such a poltroon that I prosecuted you rather than horse-whipped you," he replied; "and I am careful to abstain from physical violence. You would be only too ready to prosecute me, and so muddy the water. You're too despicable, Porshinger, even to talk to," and he turned his back and walked away.