tenographer entered and handed him a
telegram. He tore it open, glanced it through, and stood staring at it
in a kind of stupor.

"My God!" he breathed.

He tore the yellow sheet across, dropped the pieces in the
waste-basket and began to pace his room, on his face a wild, dazed
look. He seemed to have forgotten Katherine's presence. But a turn
brought her into his vision. He stopped short.

"You still here?"

"I was waiting to hear if Doctor Brenholtz was coming," she said.

He stared at her a moment. Then he crossed to his desk, took the two
fragments of the telegram from his waste-basket and held them out to
her.

"There is what he says."

She took the telegram and read:

"No use my coming. Best man on typhoid in West lives in your
own town. See Dr. David West."

Katherine laid down the yellow pieces and raised her eyes to Blake's
white, strained face. The two gazed at each other for a long moment.

"Well?" he said huskily.

"Well?" she quietly returned.

"Do you think I can get him?"

"How can you get a man who is serving a sentence in jail?"

"If I--if I----" He could not get the words out.

"Yes. If you confess--clear him--get him out of jail--of course he
will treat the case."

"I didn't mean that! God!" he cried, "is confession of a thing I never
did the fee you exact for saving a life?"

"What, you still hold out?"

"I'm not guilty! I tell you, I'm not guilty!"

"Then you'll not confess?"

"Never! Never!"

"Not even to save your mother?"

"She's sick--very sick. But she's not going to die--I'll not let her
die! Your father does not have to be cleared to get out of jail. In
this emergency I can arrange to get him out for a time on parole. What
do you say?"

She gazed at the desperate, wildly expectant figure. A little shiver
ran through her.

"What do you say?" he repeated.

"There can be but one answer," she replied. "My father is too big a
man to demand any price for his medical skill--even the restoration of
his honest name by the man who stole it. Parole him, and he will go
instantly to Mrs. Blake."

He dropped into his chair and seized his telephone.

"Central, give me six-o-four--quick!" There was a moment of waiting.
"This you, Judge Kellog?... This is Harrison Blake. I want you to
arrange the proper papers for the immediate parole of Doctor West.
I'll be responsible for everything. Am coming right over and will
explain."

He fairly threw the receiver bac