When John's testimony was concluded, yesterday afternoon, an adjournment was taken until the next morning; but when we had nearly finished supper, a visitor was announced, and I went out to see him. It was the sheriff, Mr. Faxon, looking very gloomy and embarrassed.
"Anything new, Mr. Faxon?" said I.
"I've come on a disagreeable errand, doctor," he replied, "and that's a fact. Is that young lady inside?—Miss Forrestal?"
"She is at table," said I, affecting an indifference I was very far from feeling. "What about her?"
"I must see her, doctor," said the sheriff, with a sort of groan. "I've a message for her."
"A message for her? What is it? Can't I deliver it?"
"No, sir, you can't. And if giving up my place would save her from it, I'd have resigned an hour ago. But there's no help for it. She'll be acquitted to-morrow, of course; but I have a warrant for her arrest to-night."
"Arrest Miss Forrestal? Oh, that's absurd, Faxon!" exclaimed I, forcing a laugh. "You might as well make a clean sweep, and arrest Mrs. Mainwaring and me!"
"I have my orders, doctor," he returned, gloomily; "and I must carry 'em out."
As he spoke, a figure advanced from the darkness at the lower end of the hall, and came forward into the light. It was Sinfire, with a proud smile on her lips.
"Good-evening, Mr. Faxon," she said. "I have heard. I am ready to go with you."
Faxon ducked his head, put his hand in his breast-pocket, muttered something unintelligible, and then glanced appealingly at me, as if he expected me to make myself of some assistance. "There's no help for it," I said to Sinfire, as cheerfully as possible. "I anticipated that you would be examined, but I didn't think they'd go quite so far as this. Of course it's only a matter of form. We'll drive over to Judge Daly's and bail you out,—it won't take an hour,—and be back before eight o'clock."
"People accused of murder cannot get out on bail, I believe," said she, quietly. "At any rate, I will not allow bail to be asked for. Mr. Faxon will take me where I am to go."
"Thank you. Miss Forrestal," said the sheriff, gratefully. "I was thinking maybe my wife could fix you up pretty cosey at my house for to-night. That'll be secure enough, I guess," he added, with a dismal grin. "But I ain't going to hurry you. Finish your supper, Miss Forrestal, and when you're ready to start, I'm here."
