Of course, there are a dozen other points of similarity equally indisputable, but--" Jimmie Dale stopped.

Clayton was on his feet--rocking on his feet.

His face was deathlike in its pallor.

Moisture was oozing from his forehead.
"I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" he cried out wildly.

"My God, I tell you, I DIDN'T do it--and--and--that would send me to the chair." "Yes," said Jimmie Dale coldly, "and that's precisely where you're going--to the chair." The man was beside himself now--racked to the soul by a paroxysm of fear.
"I'm innocent--innocent!" he screamed out.