“I'll do my best,” the unhappy man replied, forlornly.
A minute later, Dick, in charge of an officer, was brought into the room. He was pale, a little disheveled from his hours in a cell. He still wore his evening clothes of the night before. His face showed clearly the deepened lines, graven by the suffering to which he had been subjected, but there was no weakness in his expression. Instead, a new force that love and sorrow had brought out in his character was plainly visible. The strength of his nature was springing to full life under the stimulus of the ordeal through which he was passing.
The father went forward quickly, and caught Dick's hands in a mighty grip.
“My boy!” he murmured, huskily. Then, he made a great effort, and controlled his emotion to some extent. “The Inspector tells me,” he went on, “that you've refused to talk—to answer his questions.”
Dick, too, winced under the pain of this meeting with his father in a situation so sinister. But he was, to some degree, apathetic from over-much misery. Now, in reply to his father's words, he only nodded a quiet assent.
“That wasn't wise under the circumstances,” the father remonstrated hurriedly. “However, now, Demarest and I are here to protect your interests, so that you can talk freely.” He went on with a little catch of anxiety in his voice. “Now, Dick, tell us! Who killed that man? We must know. Tell me.”
Burke broke in impatiently, with his blustering fashion of address.
“Where did you get——?”
But Demarest raised a restraining hand.
“Wait, please!” he admonished the Inspector. “You wait a bit.” He went a step toward the young man. “Give the boy a chance,” he said, and his voice was very friendly as he went on speaking. “Dick, I don't want to frighten you, but your position is really a dangerous one. Your only chance is to speak with perfect frankness. I pledge you my word, I'm telling the truth, Dick.” There was profound concern in the lawyer's thin face, and his voice, trained to oratorical arts, was emotionally persuasive. “Dick, my boy, I want you to forget that I'm the District Attorney, and remember only that I'm an old friend of yours, and of your father's, who is trying very hard to help you. Surely, you can trust me. Now, Dick, tell me: Who shot Griggs?”