Instantly Langham paused, turning a not too friendly face toward the gambler.

“You want to see me?” he asked.

“Didn’t I say so?” demanded Gilmore, as he gained a place at his side.  “Where are you going, to the office?”

“Yes, I have some letters to answer,” and Langham quickened his pace.

Gilmore kept his place at the lawyer’s elbow.  For a moment there was silence between them, and then Gilmore said: 

“You got away from McBride’s in a hurry Saturday; why didn’t you wait and see the finish?”

Langham made no answer to this, and Gilmore, after another brief silence, turned on him with an unexpected question: 

“How would you like to be in North’s shoes, Marsh?” As he spoke, the gambler rested a hand on Langham’s shoulder.  He felt him shrink from the physical contact.  “Gives you a chill just to think of it, doesn’t it?” he said.  “I suppose Moxlow believes there’s the making of a pretty strong case against him; eh, Marsh?”

“I don’t know; I can’t tell what he thinks,” said Langham briefly.

“But in North’s place, back there in the jail in one of those brand-new iron cages over the yard, how would you feel?  That’s what I want to know!”

Langham met his glance for an instant and then his eyes fell.  He sensed the insinuation that was back of Gilmore’s words.

“Can’t you put yourself in his place, with the evidence, such as it is, all setting against you?”

“I’m due at the office,” said the lawyer suddenly.

Gilmore took his arm.

“If North didn’t kill McBride, who did?” he persisted.

“Why do you ask me such questions?” demanded Langham resentfully.

“My lord—­can’t we consider the matter?” asked the gambler laughing.

“What’s the use?  Here, I’ve got to go to the office, Andy—­” and he sought to release himself, but Gilmore retained his hold.

“I suppose you are going to see North?” he asked.

Langham came to a sudden stop.

“What’s that?” he asked hoarsely.

“You have been his intimate for years; surely you are too good a friend to turn your back on him now!”

“If he wants me, he’ll send for me!” muttered Langham.

“Do you mean you aren’t going to him, Marsh?” asked the gambler with well simulated astonishment.

“He knows where I’m to be found,” said Langham, striding forward again, “and, damn it, this is no concern of yours!”

“Well, by thunder!” ejaculated Gilmore.

“I don’t need any points from you, Andy!” said Langham, with a sullen sidelong glance at his companion.

They had crossed the Square, and Langham now halted at the curb.

“Good-by, Andy!” he said, and shook himself free of the other’s detaining hand.

“Hold on a minute, Marsh!” objected Gilmore.

“Well, what is it, can’t you see I am in a hurry?”