“Come on!” she cried.
She started across the street, with Old Hosie at her heels. But before she reached the opposite curb she paused, and turned slowly back.
“What’s the matter?” asked Old Hosie.
“It won’t do. The people on the stand would pull me down before I got started speaking. And even if I spoke, the people would not believe me. I have got to put this evidence”—she pressed the documents within her bosom—“before their very eyes. No, we have got to think of some other way.”
By this time they were back in the seclusion of the doorway of the Express Building, where they had previously been standing. For several moments the hoarse, vehement oratory of a tired throat rasped upon their heedless ears. Once or twice Old Hosie stole a glance at Katherine’s tensely thoughtful face, then returned to his own meditation.
Presently she touched him on the arm. He looked up.
“I have it this time!” she said, with the quiet of suppressed excitement.
“Yes?”
“We’re going to get out an extra!”