Murgatroyd lolled back in his chair and lit a fresh cigar. Presently he said:—
"Thorne, my duty is to the people as well as to your client; so far I've done my duty to both. Go to the Morning Mail if you want to."
"And leave my client here alone!" said Thorne, doggedly. He shook his head to let Challoner see what a determined man he was.
Murgatroyd leaned back over his desk and for a moment busied himself with his papers. Then he announced:—
"Mr. Thorne, your client is going back to jail at once;" and added jokingly: "If you wish to ride with him in the van, you may do so." And with that he ordered Challoner taken away.
Before going, Challoner stretched out his hand and said half genially:—
"I've no fault to find with you, Mr. Prosecutor; it had to come to this."
"But I won't forget this—not for a moment, Prosecutor Murgatroyd," said Thorne grandiloquently, as he stalked out of the door, followed by the prisoner and his guards.
After the men had left Murgatroyd paced the floor for a while in deep meditation. Something in the prisoner's attitude had moved him, puzzled him. "There's a discrepancy somewhere," he told himself; "and yet where the deuce is it?—Challoner killed this man as sure as fate. The motive, the opportunity, were there.... And then there's his confession.... But—" He pushed a button; and when McGrath answered the call he was ordered to have Pemmican sent down from the house of detention, his order ending with: "I wish to see him at once."
"Yes, sir." The officer then placed a card upon the prosecutor's desk and added: "That's a party who wants to see you, sir."