Then she must have been endeavouring to deceive him; as deeply interested as these others—­in getting him safely off the trail of this crime.  It was a hard lesson, one that instantly turned all his theories upside down, but the truth came to him with blinding, sickening force—­she was as guilty as Hobart; they were both working to the same end, endeavouring to get him safely out of the way.  They would accomplish this with lies if possible, if not then with force.  It was for no other purpose he had been granted this interview alone—­in the hope that he might thus be deceived by her.  Now he saw through the trick.

These thoughts swept West’s brain in a sudden flash of revelation, but he had no chance to act; to denounce her, to make a single movement, before the door opened swiftly, and Hobart slipped eagerly into the room.  The first glance the fellow had of the prisoner, standing erect and unbound, must have deceived him into believing the girl had succeeded in her quest.

“So you’ve set him free,” he exclaimed.  “The fellow has come to his senses, has he?”

“No, he has not,” she snapped with temper darkening her eyes.  “I was not afraid of him, so I let him loose, but he’s made me no promise.  Now it is up to you; I’m done.”

She slipped out through the opening, and Hobart leaned against the door, pushing it shut behind her, his scowling eyes watching West intently.

“So, that is how it stands, is it, my man?” he growled threateningly.  “You even refuse to accept the word of the lady, do you?”

“Those are very nearly the facts,” West replied steadily.  “Then I told her I thought she must be mistaken; now I believe she was sent here for no other purpose but to deceive me.  If I ever had any doubt of a crime, it has vanished since this interview.”

“What crime?”

“Murder; the killing of Percival Coolidge.  Is that plain enough, Hobart?  I want you to understand.  I am fighting this case from now on in the open; it is going to be man to man.”

“What the hell do you mean, you cur?”

“I’ll tell you,” went on West coldly, determined now to so anger the fellow as to bring the whole matter to a climax, reckless of the consequences.  “I charge you with murder.  I haven’t the proof, but I’ll get it; I do not know the object, but I’ll find out.”

“You fool! you’ll never get away from here.  My God, you must be crazy!”

“Never was saner in all my life, Hobart.  I am a soldier, and am taking a soldier’s chance.  Now listen.  I feel no particular interest in the death of Percival Coolidge.  In my judgment the world is just as well off with him dead as alive.  But what this means to Natalie Coolidge is another matter entirely.”

“She told you—­”

“Yes, she told me—­a lie.  That is what hurts; what makes me ready to take any chance to put you where you belong.  You have lied to her, deceived her, made her your accomplice in crime.  I’m fighting for a woman, because she has got no one else to fight for her.”