“Now,” and with this now the lawyer brought his white fat hand down upon his knee in an emphatic way, as one who says “nextly.”  “Now—­there are several courses open to us.  I asked you whether you took the warrant or not, because the line of defense that presents itself first is to follow the track of your suspicions, and fix the guilt on some one else if we can.  I understand, however, that that course is closed to us?”

Charlton nodded his head.

“We might try to throw suspicion—­only suspicion, you know—­on the stage-driver or somebody else.  Eh?  Just enough to confuse the jury?”

Albert shook his head a little impatiently.

“Well, well, that’s so—­not the best line.  The warrant was in your hands.  You used it for pre-emption.  That is very ugly, very.  I don’t think much of that line, under the circumstances.  It might excite feeling against us.  It is a very bad case.  But we will pull through, I hope.  We generally do.  Give the case wholly into my hands.  We’ll postpone, I think.  I shall have to make an affidavit that there are important witnesses absent, or something of the sort.  But we’ll have the case postponed.  There’s some popular feeling against you, and juries go as the newspapers do.  Now, I see but one way, and that is to postpone until the feeling dies down.  Then we can manage the papers a little and get up some sympathy for you.  And there’s no knowing what may happen.  There’s nothing like delay in a bad case.  Wait long enough, and something is sure to turn up.”

“But I don’t want the case postponed,” said Charlton decidedly.

“Very natural that you shouldn’t like to wait.  This is not a pleasant room.  But it is better to wait a year or even two years in this jail than to go to prison for fifteen or twenty.  Fifteen or twenty years out of the life of a young man is about all there is worth the having.”

Here Charlton shuddered, and Mr. Conger was pleased to see that his words took effect.

“You’d better make up your mind that the case is a bad one, and trust to my experience.  When you’re sick, trust the doctor.  I think I can pull you through if you’ll leave the matter to me.”

“Mr. Conger,” said Charlton, lifting up his pale face, twitching with nervousness, “I don’t want to get free by playing tricks on a court of law.  I know that fifteen or twenty years in prison would not leave me much worth living for, but I will not degrade myself by evading justice with delays and false affidavits.  If you can do anything for me fairly and squarely, I should like to have it done.”

“Scruples, eh?” asked Mr. Conger in surprise.

“Yes, scruples,” said Albert Charlton, leaning his head on his hands with the air of one who has made a great exertion and has a feeling of exhaustion.

“Scruples, Mr. Charlton, are well enough when one is about to break the law.  After one has been arrested, scruples are in the way.”