“Oh, I guess not,” Kennedy had to admit.
“Well, suppose you cut out that kind of talk then. But what are you going to do about the doctor?”
“The grand jury is in session. I’m going straight before it with the evidence. An hour from now and Doctor West will be indicted.”
“And what about to-morrow’s show?”
“What do you think we ought to do?”
“What ought we to do!” Again the editor’s fist crashed upon the desk. “The celebration was half in Doctor West’s honour. Do we want to meet and hurrah for the man that sold us out? As for the water-works, it looks as if, for all we know, he might have bought us a lot of old junk. Do we want to hold a jubilee over a junk pile? You ask what we ought to do. God, man, there’s only one thing to do, and that’s to call the whole damned performance off!”
“That’s my opinion,” said the prosecutor. “What do you think, Doctor Sherman?”
The young minister wiped his pale face.
“It’s a most miserable affair. I’m sick because of the part I’ve been forced to play—I’m sorry for Doctor West—and I’m particularly sorry for his daughter—but I do not see that any other course would be possible.”