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Updated: June 1, 2025
Perhaps some other soul in misery had called on the lawyer; and, after all, Granice's note had given no hint of his own need! No doubt Ascham thought he merely wanted to make another change in his will. Since he had come into his little property, ten years earlier, Granice had been perpetually tinkering with his will. Suddenly another thought pulled him up, sending a flush to his sallow temples.
A cold shiver ran down Granice's spine, but he repeated obstinately: "That's not Dr. Stell." "Not Stell? Why, man, I know him. Look here he comes. If it isn't Stell, he won't speak to me." The little dried-up man was moving slowly up the aisle. As he neared McCarren he made a slight gesture of recognition. "How'do, Doctor Stell?
And though a week had elapsed since the visit of that authorized official, nothing had been heard from the District Attorney's office: Allonby had apparently dropped the matter again. But McCarren wasn't going to drop it not he! He positively hung on Granice's footsteps. They had spent the greater part of the previous day together, and now they were off again, running down clues.
And I've taken the opportunity to write out a clearer statement " Granice's hand shook so that he could hardly draw the folded paper from his pocket. As he did so he noticed that the reporter was accompanied by a tall man with grave compassionate eyes. It came to Granice in a wild thrill of conviction that this was the face he had waited for...
The room was gradually filled with drifting blue layers of smoke, and through them the editor's face came and went like the moon through a moving sky. Once the hour struck then the rhythmical ticking began again. The atmosphere grew denser and heavier, and beads of perspiration began to roll from Granice's forehead. "Do you mind if I open the window?" "No. It is stuffy in here.
His hand on Granice's shoulder, as he turned to go "District Attorney be hanged; see a doctor, see a doctor!" he had cried; and so, with an exaggerated laugh, had pulled on his coat and departed. Granice turned back into the library. It had never occurred to him that Ascham would not believe his story.
Both were successful men, and success does not understand the subtle agony of failure. Granice cast about for another reason. "Why, I the thing haunts me ... remorse, I suppose you'd call it..." Denver struck the ashes from his empty pipe. "Remorse? Bosh!" he said energetically. Granice's heart sank. "You don't believe in remorse?" "Not an atom: in the man of action.
He shut his note-book, and throwing back his head, rested his bright inquisitive eyes on Granice's furrowed face. "Look here, Mr. Granice you see the weak spot, don't you?" The other made a despairing motion. "I see so many!" "Yes: but the one that weakens all the others. Why the deuce do you want this thing known? Why do you want to put your head into the noose?"
Denver had to pass Granice's flat on the way to his own, and it became a habit, if he saw a light in the window, and Granice's shadow against the blind, to go in, smoke a pipe, and discuss the universe. "Well this is like old times a good old habit reversed." The editor smote his visitor genially on the shoulder. "Reminds me of the nights when I used to rout you out... How's the play, by the way?
"Perhaps your friend he is your friend? would glance over it or I could put the case in a few words if you have time?" Granice's voice shook like his hand. If this chance escaped him he felt that his last hope was gone. McCarren and the stranger looked at each other, and the former glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry we can't stay and talk it over now, Mr.
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