Pinney started the instant he received Northwick's telegram, and met him with an enthusiasm of congratulation. "Well, Mr. Northwick, this is a great thing. It's the right thing, and it's the wise thing. It's going to have a tremendous effect. I suppose," he added, a little tremulously, "that you've thought it all thoroughly over?"
"Yes; I'm prepared for the worst," said Northwick.
"Oh, there won't be any worst," Pinney returned gayly. "There'll be legal means of delaying the trial; your lawyer can manage that; or if he can't, and you have to face the music at once, we can have you brought into court without the least publicity, and the judge will go through with the forms, and it'll be all over before anybody knows anything about it. I'll see that there's no interviewing, and that there are no reporters present. There'll probably be a brief announcement among the cases in court; but there won't be anything painful. You needn't be afraid. But what I'm anxious about now is, not to bring any influence to bear on you. I promised my wife I wouldn't urge you, and I won't; I know I'm a little optimistic, and if you don't see this thing exactly couleur de rose, don't you do it from anything I say." Pinney apparently put great stress upon himself to get this out.
"I've looked it in the face," said Northwick.
"And your friends know you're coming back?"
"They expect me at any time. You can notify them."
Pinney drew a long, anxious breath. "Well," he said, with a sort of desperation, "then I don't see why we don't start at once."
"Have you got your papers all right?" Northwick asked.
"Yes," said Pinney, with a blush. "But you know," he added, respectfully, "I can't touch you till we get over the line, Mr. Northwick."
"I understand that. Let me see your warrant."