IT WAS the jailor himself who admitted Harrington, gazing in unconcealed astonishment at the dejected figure of the man whom he had seen dart out of that same door half an hour before, radiating cheer and confidence.
"I've come back to you, White," Henry confessed hoarsely. "I want a place to kind of sit down and pull myself together. I've had one more wallop, White; and one more was the limit!"
"Sure," said the jailor sympathetically. "Sure, Henry! Come right in here to my office. Set there as long as you like."
Tactfully he led Harrington within and tactfully took himself out; but the door remained open and from the corridor he gazed speculatively upon the bowed shoulders of the young attorney—speculatively and, he fancied, knowingly. "Henry," he ventured presently, advancing to the door, "excuse me for butting in but there's one thing I probably oughta tell you."
"Yes?" inquired Harrington, without looking up, not relishing White's intervention yet recognizing its friendly intent.
"Sometimes a guy makes a promise he oughta break and I got a notion I oughta bust one now."
"Well?" interrogated Henry, raising his eyes and forcing a faint smile. "Let your conscience be your guide!"
