During this scene Moxlow's glance had been centered on North in a fixed stare of impersonal curiosity, now he turned with quick nervous decision and snatching up his shabby hat from the table, left the room.
Langham had preceded him by a few moments, escaping unobserved when there were eyes only for North.
"I am ready, Conklin."
And a moment later North and the sheriff passed out into the twilight. Neither spoke until they came to the court-house Square.
"We'll go in this way, John!" said the sheriff in a tone that was meant to be encouraging, but failed.
They ascended the court-house steps, and went down the long corridor to the rear of the building. Here they passed out through wide doors and into a narrow yard that separated the court-house from the jail. Crossing this sandy strip they entered the sheriff's office. Conklin paused; North gazed at him inquiringly.
"It's too bad, John," said the sheriff.
Then without further words he led North to a door opposite that by which they had entered. It opened on a long brick-paved passageway, at the end of which was a flight of narrow stairs. Ascending these North found himself in another long hall. Conklin paused before the first of three doors on the right and pushed it open.
"I guess this will do, John!" he said.
North stepped quickly in and glanced about him. The room held an iron bedstead, a wooden chair and, by the window which overlooked the jail yard and an alley beyond, a wash-stand with a tin basin and pitcher.