"I think," he assured Mrs. Challoner, "that I have found more than one hook to hang a hat on. It looks to me like a reversal."
"I am sure it will be," she replied.
Her assurance was the same assurance that had sustained her in the trial. There was still that mysterious something that Thorne could not understand. She seemed the incarnation of hope.
"What do you think, chief?" asked McGrath of Murgatroyd, one day after the appeal had been argued.
Murgatroyd shrugged his shoulders.
"That verdict will stick," was his only comment.
"By the way," said McGrath, "Pemmican keeps mum up there in jail; but he's getting restless as thunder. He wants to know how soon you're going to try him on this gambling charge."
Murgatroyd smiled.
"In due course," he returned, "but you can tell Pemmican unofficially that the quickest way for him to get on trial—or in fact the quickest way for him to get off without trial—to get out of jail, is to let me know the name of the man higher up. I'm looking for John Doe, and I expect to keep Pemmican under lock and key until I get him. You understand?"
"He sure does kick," laughed McGrath.