“This young lady is a friend of Mr. Richald’s,” said the lawyer. “She is very anxious to speak with the prisoner. I am willing to vouch for all she says or does.”
Walton shot a keen glance at the girl. “This is rather unusual,” he said; “but I will accede to your request, provided, of course, the interview takes place in my presence.”
Shortly afterward Richald entered the room, and as he caught sight of the girl he trembled and appeared dazed. For a moment she hesitated, then, with a cry which touched the hearts of the older men, she rapidly crossed the room, threw her arms about the young man’s neck, and kissed him passionately.
Whether they were sweetheart and lover, husband and wife, or brother and sister, Walton had no means for knowing; but that the girl played an important part in the case he felt certain. Hurriedly writing a line, he handed it to an officer, and from that time Frank Richald’s visitor was under the shadow of the law.
For several minutes the prisoner and his visitor conversed in anxious whispers; then, going to the lawyer, the young woman said: “After you have shown me to the carriage Mr. Richald has something important to say to you. He will tell you everything.”
“Now tell me all,” said the lawyer, seating himself by the side of Richald. In eager whispers he told his story. When he had finished the old lawyer paced up and down the room, showing that he was laboring under intense excitement. Stopping suddenly, he said: “You must repeat this to the superintendent, here and now.”
Without hesitating, Richald in a firm voice commenced his recital—Yarrow an excited listener, and the superintendent coolly indifferent; but Richald had spoken for only a few moments when Walton’s studied indifference gave way and he was soon closely following every word. When the young man had finished the superintendent leaned across his desk, and, clasping his hand, said, “I believe you.”
“But there is no time to be lost,” he continued. Pushing several of the electric buttons on his desk, he gave his orders to the officers who appeared. Then, turning, he said, “Mr. Yarrow, will you come back at six o’clock this evening? And, Mr. Richald, I shall still have to subject you to my hospitality.”
That evening the lawyer once more entered the superintendent’s room. He found Walton and Richald busily engaged in conversation, and with them was Brixton. “Now we will get to business,” said the superintendent, seating himself at his desk.
Into this company Marsh was called. “In the first place,” said the superintendent, “it may be well to explain that Lawrence Marchburn and the prisoner were brothers.” Turning to Marsh, he said, “Now tell us your story.”