"Well?" Granice faltered out.

Denver stood up with a shrug. "Look here, man--what's wrong with
you? Make a clean breast of it! Nerves gone to smash? I'd like to
take you to see a chap I know--an ex-prize-fighter--who's a wonder
at pulling fellows in your state out of their hole--"

"Oh, oh--" Granice broke in. He stood up also, and the two men eyed
each other. "You don't believe me, then?"

"This yarn--how can I? There wasn't a flaw in your alibi."

"But haven't I filled it full of them now?"

Denver shook his head. "I might think so if I hadn't happened to
know that you _wanted_ to. There's the hitch, don't you see?"

Granice groaned. "No, I didn't. You mean my wanting to be found
guilty--?"

"Of course! If somebody else had accused you, the story might have
been worth looking into. As it is, a child could have invented it.
It doesn't do much credit to your ingenuity."

Granice turned sullenly toward the door. What was the use of
arguing? But on the threshold a sudden impulse drew him back. "Look
here, Denver--I daresay you're right. But will you do just one thing
to prove it? Put my statement in the _Investigator_, just as I've
made it. Ridicule it as much as you like. Only give the other