“What are you searching for, Mr. Wyndham?” he asked.
“I dropped my last match,” was the reply, and Wyndham leaned to one side and felt about the ground.
“Here’s my box—catch!” Thorne, taking it from his pocket, tossed it to Wyndham. The match box fell squarely before Wyndham, and he picked it up with a word of thanks and relit his cigarette, then returned the box, and gave his full attention to Mitchell.
“What news this morning, Mitchell?” he inquired.
Mitchell took his own time in answering as he puffed smoke rings with a contented air.
“Commonwealth Attorney Wood has issued a warrant for Dr. Alan Noyes, and the sheriff has just gone to serve it.”
“What!” Wyndham was on his feet instantly, his face white and startled. “It is a monstrous miscarriage of justice. Noyes is no more guilty of Brainard’s death than you are, Mitchell.”
“He will have ample opportunity to prove his innocence,” replied Mitchell. “The preliminary hearing will be held before Judge Ball this morning.”
“On what do you base such an accusation?” demanded Wyndham, for the moment forgetting to keep up his espionage of Thorne.
“I cannot disclose details,” Mitchell’s chin looked aggressive. “Dr. Noyes may give bond in answer to the warrant, and waive examination until the next term of court.”