Marston smiled grimly.
"I don't mean anything, do I?" he returned. "But I'd like to try an experiment."
Lee's scraggy eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and into the keen grey eyes crept a whimsical light.
"Don't you know, Marston," he said, "that the popular conception of the attitude of a district attorney is to railroad any man that falls into his clutches—quite regardless of guilt or innocence, of course—to the noose or pen, as the case may be, with the utmost expediency? Surely, you don't expect me to aid and abet you in establishing the possible innocence of a self-confessed murderer, and take any chance of his slipping through my fingers! I'm surprised at you, Marston! What's the experiment?"
Marston placed his hand on the other's shoulder.
"Just this," he said impressively. "I want to bring Varge and Harold Merton face to face suddenly in the room where Doctor Merton was murdered—and I want to do it now while the iron's hot."
Lee whistled a low note under his breath, as he reached again for the paper cutter. He dropped this after a second or two, and looked at his watch.
"It's eleven o'clock," he said abruptly. "The coroner's inquest is at two. I'm not sure it's quite regular, but if it isn't we'll stretch a point. Get a sleigh, Marston, and we'll go out there now."
"The sleigh's been waiting at the jail door for the last hour," said Marston quietly.
"Oh!" remarked Lee with a low laugh, as he swung to his feet.
Marston started for the door.
