The Red Mouse Part 47

Miriam shook her head.

"You remember his testimony at the trial, Laurie; besides," she added softly, taking an old newspaper clipping from a small drawer of her desk, "Pemmican is dead."

"Dead!" His voice rang out in astonishment. "Dead! I didn't know it. Why didn't you tell me?"

For answer she placed her finger on her lips.

"Why, he died in the county jail, not long after I was tried!" exclaimed Challoner, who was now reading the newspaper clipping. "Poor chap, the confinement killed him, I imagine. Well, I never killed Hargraves, and I'm going to prove it, somehow." He leaned over and kissed a tiny bit of ruffle. "I'm going to prove it for you and the little one."

"Laurie," insisted Miriam, quivering, "are you sure?"

"I was never surer of anything in my life than this," replied Challoner.

"I tell you, it has all come back to me like a flash. It was you, little one," he said, bending once more over something imaginary in his arm, "that brought it back to me."

Miriam had watched him closely.

"Yes, yes," she conceded, "it is true, I can see it--I know." And sobbing, dropped her head upon his shoulder.

"I've got to prove it," he repeated over and over again, patting her head affectionately.

"But--Murgatroyd--why, if you were innocent ..." suddenly cried Miriam.

"Well?"

"He ought to know it."

"What do I care about Murgatroyd! What do I care about anybody but you and the little one that is coming--coming to you and to me!"

"Laurie," breathed Miriam softly, "I'm happy, oh, so happy! I knew--I felt, somehow, that things would come out right. I don't care whether you ever prove this--so long as we know. Happy?" she repeated as she nestled closer to him. "I should think so, with five hundred dollars in the bank and a small business, and after a while...."

"The most important thing, now, is that I'm certain I did not kill Hargraves. That makes it easy for the next important thing--for you--my baby--my little baby."

Reluctantly he yielded the lilliputian garment to Miriam. There was a knock on the inner door that Miriam had closed; it was followed by s.h.i.+rley's entrance into the room.

"I hope," she said gaily, little knowing what had happened, "that we are going to eat pretty soon, for I never was more hungry in my life."

"The dinner will be an hour late," apologised her hostess, "but you won't mind, I'm sure, when I tell you _why_."

XVII

In the prosecutor's office, to which they had access at all hours of the day, were Mixley and McGrath, the latter occupying a strategic position, in that he held in his hand the latest edition of the _Morning Mail_.

"How's the joint ballot?" called Mixley from across the room.

"Oh, it's hot, I tell you--both houses up all night!" returned the other from over his paper. "The hands of the clock moved back about ten times, and still going it. Still in session."

Again Mixley called:--

"Let's see the extra!"

McGrath tossed it over to him. Across its face, in huge letters, appeared the single significant word:

"DEADLOCK"

"Oh, but it's Murgatroyd that gives them the fight!" exclaimed Mixley, with enthusiasm.

McGrath smiled.

"Sure," he answered. "He's holdin' 'em, but that's all he's doin'. But what of that? He's got nothin' to hold 'em on. Why, everybody knows that he hasn't any money. It's my opinion," declared McGrath, "that the job goes to Thorne!"

Mixley read the first page of the _Morning Mail_ with care. After a while he read:--

"I guess you're right. Thorne will be the next Senator, all right. Hang the luck!"

"How can it be helped?" reasoned McGrath. "Look at them brewers putting up maybe a quarter of a million to help Thorne out! I say, what do you think the votes of the 'wise' a.s.semblymen were quoted at--on the market last night?"

"I don't know. I wish I was an a.s.semblyman at that," sighed Mixley.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars apiece, and a rising market growing stronger every minute," answered McGrath. "And them brewers'll pay it, too. One fellow wanted fifty thousand--an' he'll get it--see if he don't."

"I wish I was an a.s.semblyman," repeated Mixley wistfully.

"If you were, and there was Thorne and twenty-five thousand on one side for you, and Murgatroyd without a dollar on the other, who would you vote for? Come, now, answer!"

Mixley waved his hand.

"You'd vote for Murgatroyd," yelled McGrath, "you know you would--you couldn't help yourself."

Mixley sighed again.

"But I ain't an a.s.semblyman," he answered; and in the next breath he added: "There's somebody at that there door."

McGrath crossed to the door and opened it; and Challoner, Mrs. Challoner and s.h.i.+rley Bloodgood entered.

McGrath, who remembered them well, and who knew Challoner especially well since the hospital investigation, bowed low, and announced that the prosecutor was out.

s.h.i.+rley stepped forward and said determinedly:--

"But we must see him."

"He's expected any moment," said Mixley from across the room.

"We'll wait," chorused the three visitors.

McGrath bowed again and went back to his seat near the window.