t business out of
town."

"But tell us what she said," Witherspoon demanded.

"Her deposition is in the hands of the law." He said this with a sly
pleasure--Witherspoon had so often spoken of the law as if it were his
agent. "I can simply tell you," Henry continued, "that she saw Brooks
when he shot the old man."

"But how can that be? Brooks and his wife ran into the room at the
same time. They were together."

"Yes, they ran into the room together, and Brooks had presumably just
jumped out of bed. But be that as it may, Mrs. Colton saw him when he
shot the old man. And if he is guilty, why should you defend him?"

Witherspoon got up. "You are not going down-town, father," his wife
pleaded. "George, you must not go!"

"I'm not going, Caroline." He began to walk up and down the room, but
not with his wonted firmness of step. They said nothing to him; they
let him walk in his troubled silence. Turning suddenly he would
sometimes confront Henry and seem about to denounce him; and then he
was strong. But the next moment, and as if weakened by an
instantaneous failure of vital forces, he would helplessly turn to his
wife as though she could give him strength.

"Don't let it worry you so, father," she begged of him; "don't let it
worry you so. It will come out all right. Nobody can fasten any blame
on you."

"Yes, they will--yes, they will, the wretches. They hate me; they
bleed me every chance they get, and now they want to humble me--ruin
me. Nobody can ever know what I have gone through. Defend him!" he
exclaimed. "I hope they will hang him. I suspected him, and yet I was
afraid to, for in some way it seemed to involve me--I don't know how.
But I knew that the wretches would fix it up and ruin the Colossus.
For weeks and weeks it has been gnawing me like a rat. But what could
I do? I was afraid to discharge him. He's got a running tongue. But
what have I done?" he violently asked himself. "He took Colton's
place--held Colton's interest. I could do nothing. Sometimes I felt
that he was surely innocent. But I fancied that I could hear
mutterings whenever I passed people in the street, and the rat would
begin its gnawing again. He will drag us all down." His voice failed
him, and he sank in his chair. "Ruined! The Colossus is ruined!" he
hoarsely whispered.

"If you would stop to think," said Henry, "you would know that your
trouble is mostly physical. Your nerves are unstrung. The public is
not so willing to be