Leigh lifted his haggard face from his hands and looked at his brother.
“Will they hang me, Dan?” he asked hoarsely.
“Not while I can lift a voice in your defense, Leigh; not while there’s any power on earth that your brother can move to save you!” cried Daniel his own voice deepening with emotion. “I’m your lawyer now, dear boy. Tell me about it. I’ve got to know. They say you went up to Corwin’s room; that he was half drunk and unarmed, and you shot him in cold blood.”
“I didn’t know he was unarmed!” cried Leigh passionately. “You know I didn’t, Dan. I had to shoot him. He was belying Fanchon; he dared to talk ill of Fanchon——”
“Leave Fanchon out!” cried Daniel. “Forget her for five minutes. Think of yourself, Leigh, of your own defense. Tell me about that shot.”
“I tell you I had to shoot him!” Leigh’s young face was distorted; a man’s fury looked out of his young eyes. “I’d shoot him again this minute if he stood there”—he pointed a shaking finger at the wall opposite—“and said such things of Fanchon!”
“For Heaven’s sake, leave Fanchon out! How did you do it, Leigh! I’m going to save you, I will save you, but you must tell me. Forget that I’m your brother, remember that I’m your lawyer. Tell me the whole story, Leigh.”
Leigh, still choking with wrath, tried to command himself.
“I was going home this afternoon,” he began hoarsely, “and Bernstein—you know, the movie man—he met me and told me to tell father about this—this man, Corwin.”
Daniel suppressed an exclamation.