"What do they say ?" Witherspoon eagerly asked.

He flounced up, and drawing the covers about him, sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'll see," Henry answered.
"But be quick about it.

Great goodness, I can't wait all day." "There's so much that I can't tell it in a breath." "But can't you give me the gist of it?
Call yourself a newspaper man and can't get at the gist of a thing." "Be patient a moment and I will read to you." During more than an hour Witherspoon sat, listening; and when the last paper had been disposed of, he said: "Why, that isn't so bad.

They don't mix me up in it after all.

What was that?
Brooks seems to he wavering and may make a confession?
But what will he say?
That's the question.