“My mind is made up,” said Trevor, stubbornly. “I intend to resign.”
“The President told me, Mr. Attorney General, that he could not accept your resignation until—until—”
“Until what?” questioned Trevor, in growing surprise.
Dick, taking his courage in both hands, continued: “Until you explain your presence here with your wife shortly before she was killed.”
“Are you mad?” shouted Trevor. “As I said on the witness stand, I never saw my wife after my return that night—I—”
“One moment, sir. You forget the Secretary himself talked on the telephone to both you and your wife in this room at fifteen minutes past two on Thursday morning.”
The Attorney General grew so ghastly that Dick feared he would collapse in his chair.
“The telephone,” he croaked. “My God! the telephone—I forgot that—” then, in uncontrollable agitation, he sprang to his feet and walked up and down, head bent, eyes on the floor.
Five minutes, ten minutes passed; but the silence between the two men remained unbroken. Dick simply could not speak, he felt as if he were torturing some dumb animal, for the look of agony on Trevor’s face unnerved him. Finally the Attorney General dropped exhausted into his revolving chair.
“Tillinghast,” he said, slowly, “I am miserable—miserable—” His shaking hand played for a second with his watch chain. “I thought that by taking a certain course of action I could prevent knowledge of other matters from becoming known broadcast.”