"Boss, if it was me that stood in his boots the halter would be as good as about my neck; they wouldn't give me no chance to clear myself,—they wouldn't let me! Them smart lawyers would twist and turn everything I said so that God A'mighty wouldn't know His own truth!"
"Well, you were in that alley, Joe; if you feel for him, I expect we could somehow shift it to you!" said Gilmore.
The handy-man slouched to the hearth again.
"None of that, boss!" he cried. "I've told you what took me there, so none of that!"
His voice shook with suppressed feeling, as he stood there scowling down on the gambler.
"Sit down, Joe!" said Mr. Gilmore, unruffled.
Reluctantly the handy-man sank into the chair indicated.
"Now you old sot," began the gambler, "you listen to me! I suppose if they could shift suspicion so that it would appear you had had something to do with the old man's murder, it would take Moxlow and the judge and any decent jury no time at all to hang you; for who would care a damn whether you were hanged or not! But you needn't worry, I'm going to manage this thing for you, I'm going to see that you don't get into trouble. Now, listen, you're to let well enough alone. North is already under suspicion apparently. All right, we'll help that suspicion along. If you have anything to tell, you'll say that the man who came over that shed looked like North!"
"Boss, I won't say a word about the shed or the alley!"
"Oh, yes you will, Joe! The man looked like North,—you remember, at the time you thought he looked like North, and you thought you recognized his voice when he spoke, and you thought it was North's voice. He had on a black derby hat and a dark brown overcoat; don't forget that, Joe, for we are going to furnish young Mr. North with a bunch of worries."