“That is all I want to know. Now I have believed all along that Brant didn’t do it; and a little while ago I found some papers which go to show that he could have no possible motive for doing it. It isn’t necessary to go over the whole thing, but you will understand what I mean when I tell you that these papers are Brant’s, and any time he wanted to get rid of Harding all he had to do was to turn them over to the district attorney of Pitkin County. That would have been the end of Mr. Murderer Harding as soon as they could catch and hang him.” “You say you found these papers--where?” “In my safe. Brant gave them to me to keep for him.” “Do you know why he did that?” “No.” “I do.” She tugged at the fingers of her glove and a light came into her eyes that told Antrim more than she would have admitted by word of mouth under torture. “It was because he was afraid to keep them; afraid he might be tempted to let the law do what everybody is saying he did with his own hand. Harry, he is innocent!” “Of course he is; that is what I’ve been saying all along. Now there are two of us who believe it, and something has got to be done quick.” “What had you thought of?” “I can’t think--I’m too foolishly rattled to think; and that is why I sent for you. You can plan all around the rest of us. What do you say?” Dorothy sat back in the great chair and thought it all out in the turning of a leaf. “Mr. Brant must be made to listen to reason,” she said decisively. “He must let papa defend him; he must let papa use these papers; and he must tell us all the things we don’t know.” Antrim’s gesture was of despair. “Pity’s sake! that is just what we have all been trying to get him to do for two whole weeks!” “I can’t help it; that is what must be done.” “And done it shall be, if you will only go a step farther and tell me how we are to bring it about.” “Can’t you persuade him?” “Persuade nothing! Why, Dorothy, you haven’t an idea what a mule the man is! Your father, and Forsyth, and Colonel Bowran, and I have fairly worn ourselves out trying to make him open his head. There isn’t a thing any of us could think of that hasn’t been tried; not a-- Yes, by Jove, there is one thing, too!” An inspiration much too large to be readily clothed in words came to Antrim, dazzling him with its invincible simplicity. Dorothy divined it with quick intuition, and her heart sank within her at the bare suggestion. “What is it?” she asked faintly. “Why, it is the simplest thing in the world! Brant won’t talk to any of us, but if you will go to him----” “O Harry--I can’t, I can’t!” she wailed.