"I follow your reasons," she said brokenly into her hands, "I do not blame you--I accept your answer--but I still believe my father innocent."

"And for that faith, as I told you, I admire and honour you."

She slowly rose. He likewise stood up.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I do not know," she answered dully. "I was so confident of your aid, that I had thought of no alternative."

"Your father has tried other lawyers?"

"Yes. They have all refused. You can guess their reason."

He was silent for an instant.

"Why not take the case yourself?"

"I take the case!" cried Katherine, amazed.

"Yes. You are a lawyer."

"But I have never handled a case in court! I am not even admitted to the bar of the state. And, besides, a woman lawyer in Westville---- No, it's quite out of the question."

"I was only suggesting it, you know," he said apologetically.

"Oh, I realized you did not mean it seriously."

Her face grew ashen as her failure came to her afresh. She gazed at him with a final desperation.

"Then your answer--it is final?"

"I am sorry, but it is final," said he.

Her head dropped.

"Thank you," she said dully. "Good-by." And she started away.

"Wait, Katherine."

She paused, and he came to her side. His features were gray-hued and were twitching strangely; for an instant she had the wild impression that his old love for her still lived.

"I am sorry that--that the first time you asked aid of me--I should fail you. But but----"

"I understand."

"One word more." But he let several moments pa.s.s before he spoke it, and he wet his lips continually. "Remember, I am still your friend.

Though I cannot take the case, I shall be glad, in a private way, to advise you upon any matters you may care to lay before me."

"You are very good."

"Then you accept?"

"How can I refuse? Thank you."

He accompanied her down the stairway and to the door. Heavy-hearted, she returned home. This was sad news to bring her father, whom but half an hour before she had so confidently cheered; and she knew not in what fresh direction to turn for aid.

She went straight up to her father's room. With him she found a stranger, who had a vague, far-distant familiarity.

The two men rose.

"This is my daughter," said Doctor West.

The stranger bowed slightly.

"I have heard of Miss West," he said, and in his manner Katherine's quick instinct read strong preconceived disapprobation.

"And, Katherine," continued her father, "this is Mr. Bruce."

She stopped short.

"Mr. Bruce of the _Express_?"

"Of the _Express_," Bruce calmly repeated.

Her dejected figure grew suddenly tense, and her cheeks glowed with hot colour. She moved up before the editor and gazed with flashing eyes into his square-jawed face.

"So you are the man who wrote those brutal things about father?"

He bristled at her hostile tone and manner, and there was a quick snapping behind the heavy gla.s.ses.

"I am the man who wrote those true things about your father," he said with cold emphasis.

"And after that you dare come into this house!"

"Pardon me, Miss West, but a newspaper man dares go wherever his business takes him."

She was trembling all over.

"Then let me inform you that you have no business here. Neither my father nor myself has anything whatever to say to yellow journalists!"

"Katherine! Katherine!" interjected her father.

Bruce bowed, his face a dull red.

"I shall leave, Miss West, just as soon as Doctor West answers my last question. I called to see if he wished to make any statement, and I was asking him about his lawyer. He told me he had as yet secured none, but that you were applying to Mr. Blake."

Doctor West stepped toward her eagerly.

"Yes, Katherine, what did he say? Will he take the case?"