"Tut, tut! Aurora," said Horace Brooks, "I'm going to take this case--for better or for worse! Didn't I tell you I wanted to stand between you and trouble--any trouble? A man likes to do things for a woman--for the woman he loves." She sat for a long time, white, motionless, looking at him. "The pay----" she began stumblingly. "I'd rather not hear you say anything about that," he replied simply. "You did not say anything at all. This is the _office_ of Horace Brooks, attorney at law. As I understand it, I'm duly retained for the defense in the case of the state against Dieudonne Lane, charged with murder." The blood came pouring back into Aurora Lane's face as she straightened. "You are a good man," said she. "I always knew it. I----" He raised a hand once more. "These are business hours," said he, "and believe me, no time is left for anyone to do anything but work on this case." "He's innocent, of course. He couldn't have done this--who was it, do you think?" "Oh, now, I don't _know_ who it was. It may have been Don himself. All men are human. A lawyer has to look all the facts in any case square in the face." "But, my God! You can't think--you don't believe----" "Please let me act as attorney. Now, I'm to blame in a sort of way in this case. I started a good deal of this trouble. I gave your boy the advice which threw him in jail--when I told him to thrash any man who said a word against his mother--you. He's made a certain threat or two. He's been found in very compromising circumstances indeed. The case looks bad against him. Yes, he needs a lawyer--but he's got one! We'll fight it through. You see," and he smiled again his wide and winning smile, "all my life, I've had a sort of leaning for the under dog. "Now," said he, abruptly rising, "I'm in this case, and I'm going to take my chances. I've lost my chances on the Senatorship of the United States. I've kept my promise to Henderson and I've sent word to our central committee. I'm the under dog. But before all this is over, the people of Spring Valley are going to know there are two sides to this fight--and all these fights! "Now, listen, Aurora," he went on in his careless paternal fashion, as he walked, his great head drooped, his hands thrust into his pockets. "Figure it over. Last night we three walked home together--before them all. Everybody saw us. Everybody saw Tarbush. It can be proved that Don left us and went over, following after Tarbush. It can be proved that he was seen running away from that place--at just the wrong time--in just the wrong way." "But it was someone else who killed him--it wasn't my boy----" "You can't convince a jury by assertions. If it was not this man, they will ask, Who was it? Who was the other man, and why do you think so? Now, who _was_ that other man, Aurora?" "I don't know."