He felt drawn toward the sufferer now. If William had sinned against the finer ethics of society, if he had slighted a noble girl to marry a showy flirt, he was paying the price; and Daniel felt it. He turned away from the stricken figure on the lounge with a poignant feeling of commiseration. Things like this could never be forgotten. No patching-up would hide the scar in William’s heart, or make him regard his wife in the same light again. Daniel did not rouse him. He went out silently, bent on doing his utmost for Leigh. Leigh was Fanchon’s victim as surely as William had been. And Corwin? Daniel, who had scarcely seen the man until he saw him lying dead at the coroner’s, wondered in what measure Fanchon was responsible for his death, too. There were women like that, he reflected, and there were others like--Virginia! The very thought of her brought him a feeling of happiness, of reassurance. The world could not be such a bad place, after all, when there were women like Virginia in it. Even in the darkness of his present perplexity, Daniel smiled tenderly. No matter what else happened, Virginia would not fail him. He felt the touch of her hand on his and heard her voice again, her sympathy for Leigh. And she had said nothing against Fanchon. Not by a word or a glance had she accused Fanchon. But he heard it elsewhere. Judge Jessup could not control himself, and Mr. Payson, coming into Jessup’s office to express sympathy for Leigh and the Carters, did not restrain himself at all. He thought that William should have made his wife behave before this. This, in his opinion, was the natural sequence to that shocking fandango at the church musicale. Daniel, meanwhile, labored for Leigh. In spite of his best efforts, his brother was held for the grand jury without bail. The fact that Leigh had gone to Corwin’s room, carrying a pistol with him, and had there shot an unarmed man, went against him, despite his youth and his family connections. Daniel had only a few moments’ talk with him before he was removed to the county jail. Judge Jessup, coming out from the inquest, and mopping his head, used strong language. “Can’t be for anything but manslaughter, anyway,” he growled fiercely. Seeing Mr. Carter sitting in a crumpled heap in the corner of his office, the judge got a flat, black bottle from under his desk, poured something into a glass, and made Johnson Carter swallow it. “That’ll get you on your feet, Johnson,” he said gruffly. “We give it to racehorses down in Kentucky. You can call it arnica, if you’re afraid of taking to drink.” Then, while Mr. Carter tried to rally his scattered forces, he moved over to Daniel, who was standing by the window observing the motor that was carrying Leigh down to the jail. “Dan,” said he, lowering his deep bass, “where’s that woman?” Daniel started. “Up at the house, I reckon,” he said. “She was locked in her room this morning.”