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 And now he was following Wickson into the court-house again!

He hastened back with a frightened suspicion that in Plununer he had seen the assassin.

He lost himself at once in the corridors of the ground floor of the court-house, where the doors were marked, "County Commissioners," "Local Imp.," "Sheriff," on the yellowed frosting of their glasses; and when he demanded breathlessly of a passing clerk, "Where 'll I find the District Attorney—Wickson?" the official replied, curtly, "Settle Building," and went on about his business.

It was from the Settle Building that Arnett and Wickson had just walked to the court-house.

He blundered upon the elevator shaft and had to wait endlessly for the cage to descend to him. The elevator man replied to his confused explanations, "Second floor. First door to your right," and held him despairing in the cage until three other passengers came one by one at their leisure. He had the feeling of a man in a nightmare shouting for help to people who passed him either deaf or horribly indifferent. And it was as if he had wakened to the comforting realities when he came to the open door of the court-room and looked over the heads of the spectators on their benches and saw Wickson talking at the counsels' table with a young lawyer in spectacles. His suspected assassin,