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"You see, sir " recommenced Brennan. It was precisely at this point that Mr. Gunning lost his temper. "I suppose you can find time to shoot her," he said, with a very red face. "Kindly do so to-night!" Mr. Brennan's arid countenance revealed no emotion. He was accustomed to understanding his clients a trifle better than they understood themselves, and inscrutable though Mr.
John was still reluctant to believe Gibson's moves were as sinister as Brennan viewed them. There were times when, under Brennan's logic, he began to doubt Gibson's sincerity. Then Gibson disappeared. For three days he was absent from his office. Brennan and John sought him at his home, his club, without success. "He's up to something," predicted Brennan.
However, I am far better pleased to renew the acquaintance in this manner." The ice broken, we continued to converse freely for several minutes regarding incidents of the war, and I described the peculiar conditions which had brought me to the relief of Brennan's party.
They were upon the grade leading to the bridge when his vigilance was rewarded. There was some movement to the left, where the hotel trail led down the bank, and instantly both men drew up their ponies and remained intent and rigid. Brennan's hand rested on the butt of his revolver, but for the moment neither could determine what was moving in the intense blackness of the hillside.
They raised their glasses silently. "Now that you're past the worst of it," remarked O'Neil, "I suppose you'll turn in. You're getting old for a hard run like this, Johnny." Captain Brennan snorted. "Old? I'm a better man than you, yet. I'm a teetotaler, that's why. I discovered long ago that salt water and whiskey don't mix." O'Neil stretched himself out in one of Brennan's easy-chairs.
Beneath the cut were reproductions of affidavits by John, Brennan, Smith, the mayor, "Big Jim" Hatch and Evelyn Hatch, swearing to the facts contained in Brennan's comprehensive story that jumped from the first page and filled the second.
Brennan, the man who'd got away with murder and would continue to get away with it because there was no shred of evidence, no witness, nothing but James Holden's knowledge of Brennan's actions when he'd thought himself unseen in his calloused treatment of James Holden's dying mother; Brennan's critical inspection of the smashed body of his father, coldly checking the dead flesh to be sure beyond doubt; the cruel search about the scene of the 'accident' for James himself interrupted only by the arrival of a Samaritan, whose name was never known to James Holden.
The next half hour covered a blow-by-blow account of Paul Brennan's efforts to have the minor restored to him. The attorneys for both sides were alert. Brennan's counsel did not even object when Waterman paved the way to show why James Holden wanted his freedom by asking Brennan: "Were you aware that James Holden was a child of exceptional intellect?" "Yes."
That brings a throb of sympathy, a tear perhaps, for her from someone who never heard of her and it helps to make better folks and a better world." Brennan's way of talking entranced John. He realized there was more in reporting than he had ever imagined. P. Q. seemed to have forgotten him completely during the next few days.
As it was, Paul Brennan's most frightful nightmare was one where young James was spotted by some eagle-eyed detective and then in desperation anything being better than an enforced return to Paul Brennan James Holden pulled out all the stops and showed everybody precisely how well educated he really was. In his own affairs, Paul still had to make a living, which took up his time.
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