“I think it is probable there may be a way of checkmating them. But I am not sure, Captain Thorn, that I can give my attention further to this affair.”
“I hope and trust you will,” was the reply.
“You have not forgotten that I told you at first I could not promise to do so,” rejoined Mr. Carlyle. “You shall hear from me to-morrow. If I carry it on for you, I will then appoint an hour for you to be here on the following day; if not—why, I dare say you will find a solicitor as capable of assisting you as I am.”
“But why will you not? What is the reason?”
“I cannot always give reasons for what I do,” was the response. “You will hear from me to-morrow.”
He rose as he spoke; Captain Thorn also rose. Mr. Carlyle detained him yet a few moments, and then saw him out at the front door and fastened it.
He returned and released Richard. The latter took off his hat as he advanced into the blaze of light.
“Well, Richard, is it the same man?”
“No, sir. Not in the least like him.”
Mr. Carlyle, though little given to emotion, felt a strange relief—relief for Captain Thorn’s sake. He had rarely seen one whom he could so little associate with the notion of a murderer as Captain Thorn, and he was a man who exceedingly won upon the regard. He would heartily help him out of his dilemma now.