"Certainly he did," Challoner volunteered.
There was a short pause, in which the prosecutor turned over some papers lying on his desk; when he spoke again he did so without looking up from the documents he was scanning.
"I haven't examined Pemmican—my men have, though," he said. "I've got him under lock and key; he's in the house of detention; and he'll have to stay there until——"
Challoner moistened his lips.
"Until my trial, I suppose," he interposed. "Poor devil! That's hard lines!"
The prosecutor ignored the comment, but he reminded the prisoner again that he must be careful not to say anything that could be used against him, concluding with:—
"You came here from the jail quite willingly this morning?"
"Don't you think we can cut all that sort of thing out, Mr. Prosecutor?" a little scornfully.
Before answering, Murgatroyd shot a glance at his men as if to sharpen their attention.
"Very well, then," he said finally, "if you're quite willing I should like to know the exact details. As I understand it, both Hargraves and you were fatally infatuated with an actress at the Frivolity—quarrelled over her—is that right?"