“But what am I to do?” Lila repeated.

“There’s only one thing you can do — go on the stand.”

“But Mr. Dougherty! Don’t you see? They will ask me about that night, and about the — the money. And he will be convicted.”

Dougherty appeared to be greatly surprised.

“And how so? Let ’em question you from now till doomsday and what will they find out? Simply that you went straight home from the hotel and spent the evening in your room reading Pilgrim’s Progress. The only one they’ll have against you is Sherman, and if a jury wouldn’t rather believe you than him I’m a liar.”

Still Lila did not understand. She protested:

“But I didn’t spend the evening in my room.”

“Don’t you think I know it? I’m talking about evidence, not facts. As far as the jury’s concerned you did.”

Lila gazed at him in horror.

“Do you mean I’d have to lie?”

“Well, that’s a pretty strong word,” said Dougherty, “but you can call it that if you want to.”

“But I couldn’t — I couldn’t!”

“You’ll have to.”

Lila looked at him:

“No. I know I couldn’t. If I am a witness, and they ask me about — that evening, I couldn’t tell them anything but the truth.”

It was the tone rather than the words that caused Dougherty to force back the protest that came to his lips and convinced him of its uselessness.

Here was an obstacle, indeed! And utterly unexpected. Dougherty was not up on feminine psychology, and he couldn’t understand how a girl could do for a man what Lila had done on the night of Knowlton’s arrest, and then refuse to lie for him.

“Besides, it would be useless,” Lila was saying. “I think it was Mr. Sherman who saw me, but it may not have been. Some of the others may have seen me also. And now I remember: the man they left in the room did see me as I passed the door. He might not recognize me, but how can we know? And if he did—”

“All right,” Dougherty interrupted; “then there’s no use talking about it. We’re in a he — we’re in a mess; but we’ll find a way out, somehow. Dumain, find Driscoll and Booth. I’ll get Jennings. Leave it to us, Miss Williams. Don’t you worry about that thing” — pointing to the subpoena — “for a minute. Hurry up, Dumain!”

And ten minutes later the Erring Knights, five strong, were assembled in their corner, holding a council of war over this new and dangerous complication.

Booth was ready to throw up the sponge.

“What’s the use?” he demanded. “They’ve got him fifty ways from breakfast. And this thing finishes it. If Miss Williams goes on the stand and tells what she knows, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t say!” observed Dougherty ironically. “What’s the matter — cold feet? And what do you think we’re here for? It’s up to us to fix it so that she don’t go on the stand.”

“Tell me one thing,” said Driscoll. “Why haven’t they arrested her?”

“Easy enough.” This from Jennings. “Because if they did they couldn’t force her to testify against Knowlton, and they couldn’t force Knowlton to testify against her. They figure that one is better than none.”

“Come on, boys; talk business.” Dougherty pulled Jennings down on the lounge and glared at Booth. “We have enough trouble as it is, without trying to figure out why we haven’t got more.”

But their wits refused to work. No one had anything to suggest that was worth listening to, unless it was Driscoll, who was strongly in favor of avoiding the subpoena by the simple expedient of running away from it.

“The trial is only four days off,” said he. “Convey Miss Williams to some safe and sheltered spot till it’s over, and let Knowlton join her there.”

“But then there’d be a warrant out for her for contempt,” Jennings objected.

“Well, you can’t have everything,” retorted Driscoll.

Dougherty told them to wait a moment and crossed the lobby to Lila’s desk. Soon he returned, shaking his head negatively.

“She won’t do it,” he announced.

“She’s darned particular,” growled Booth. “What will she do?”

But the ex-prizefighter stood up for Lila:

“No, you can’t blame her. She looks at it different from us. We’ll have to think up something else.”

There was a silence. Driscoll lighted a cigarette, offering one to each of the others, and soon the corner was decorated with spirals of smoke. Finally Dumain spoke, for the first time.

“I tell you,” said he, “as soon as you feenish this foolishness, what I will do. You know nozzing. I weel ask Siegel.”

“And what can he do?” demanded Driscoll. “He’ll want to fix up an alibi for her, and she won’t stand for it, and then he’ll try to bully her.”

But the others signified their approval of Dumain’s suggestion, especially Dougherty, and the little Frenchman was soon on his way downtown to the attorney’s office, while Dougherty left for his daily visit to the Tombs.

Driscoll strolled over to Lila’s desk and told her that Dumain had gone to consult their lawyer.

“But he cannot help us,” she faltered. “There is nothing I can do, is there, Mr. Driscoll? Tell me.”

“You can keep up your courage,” returned the young man. “As Tom would say, be a sport. And this Siegel is a shrewd man; he’ll get us through safely, never fear. Dumain ought to be back before noon.”

But Lila was completely terrified, and refused to be reassured. The formal phraseology of the subpoena had impressed her with the power of the law; it seemed to her to smell of courts and prisons; and her woman’s mind was affected more by the document itself than by the very real danger it threatened.

Throughout the remainder of the morning she sat with her eyes glued on the entrance to the lobby. At eleven o’clock Dougherty returned from the Tombs with a note from Knowlton, but an hour later the little Frenchman had not arrived. Lila put on her hat and coat to go to lunch with a heavy heart.

The day was one of brilliant sunshine, with a saucy, freshening breeze coming in from the bay. Lila ate little and hurriedly, then strolled along the walks of Madison Square.

The grass plots were beginning to turn green, and the trees were covered with brown, damp buds, and in the center of the square a gardener was raking the newly turned earth. The gladness of the approaching spring was in the air.

Lila found it intolerable. She returned to the Lamartine.

Dumain rushed to meet her as she entered the door.

“Mees Williams! I’ve been waiting for you. Such a plan! Zat lawyer ees a genius!”

The lobby was accustomed to Dumain, and paid little attention to his gesticulations and shrill, high-pitched tones; but Lila flushed with embarrassment as they walked to her desk. She felt that everyone was in on her secret, wherein she was unjust to the loyalty and discretion of the Erring Knights.

But this was nothing to the deep, rich crimson that flooded her cheeks as the little Frenchman, in low, excited tones, unfolded to her the plan of Lawyer Siegel. And with it came a smile, curiously tender, as Dumain expressed a doubt as to her willingness to act upon it.

He finished:

“You see, he don’t know if you will do eet, and I am to telephone heem at one o’clock; so eef he must—”

“But I will,” said Lila. “Oh, I will! But are you sure I won’t have to testify? Are you sure?”

“Positeevely.”

“Then — couldn’t we do it today instead of tomorrow?”

“No,” Dumain smiled. “Eet weel take till tomorrow morning to get zee bail for Knowlton. Dougherty ees down to see heem now. Tomorrow afternoon eet will be — remember. I must go to see Siegel for zee bondsman.”

And he trotted off, leaving Lila with face still flushed and the shadow of a doubt in her eyes, but with her lips parted in a trembling, wistful smile.

But the plan of Lawyer Siegel, clever and effective as it was, nearly caused a disruption in the ranks of the Erring Knights.

For Dumain and Dougherty alone were in the secret, which they refused to divulge; and the three others strenuously objected. Booth and Jennings threatened, half in earnest, to go over to the prosecution and tell all they knew, while Driscoll made many pointed and cutting remarks concerning the source of the money they were using. But the little Frenchman and the ex-prizefighter were as adamant.

“It’s Miss Williams’s secret,” said they, “and it wouldn’t be fair to her to tell it. The fact is, she asked us not to.”

This last was not true, but Dougherty knew they wouldn’t ask Lila.

“And all we’re good for, I suppose, is to sit round with our hands in our pockets,” said Driscoll bitterly. This was on the day after the plan had been consummated. “You get Knowlton out on bail and don’t show up in the lobby for a day at a time, and when you come back expect us to clap you on the back and tell you how well we like you. It’s not a square deal.”

“Now, listen here,” said Dougherty; “don’t be a sorehead. The trial is day after tomorrow; can’t you wait that long? Besides, you fellows have had your share. You’ve been bringing her to work every morning and taking her home every evening, and, believe me, that’s some job.

“And here’s another. If Knowlton gets out — and he will — there’s going to be a little dinner for him and Lila in Dumain’s rooms Friday evening. The trial can’t last more than one day. We’ll leave that dinner to you and Booth and Jennings. When Dumain comes in this afternoon he’ll give you the keys to his flat and all the money you need. Go as far as you like.”

“For how many?”

“Seven. Us five and them two.”

Driscoll grunted, and departed to consult with Booth and Jennings.