His throat was dry and his lips were parched, he did not know whether he could speak.

His shoulders drooped and his chin rested on his breast.

What was the use--was it worth the struggle?
Suppose Montgomery, in spite of his promises, came back to Mount Hope, suppose Gilmore's iron nerve failed him! "You don't answer me, Marshall," said the judge.
"I don't understand you--" evaded Marshall.
"From my soul I wish I could believe you!" exclaimed his father.

"If it's not debt, what is the nature of your discreditable connection with Gilmore ?" Marshall glanced up quickly; he seemed to breathe again; perhaps after all Montgomery had said less than he supposed him to have said! "I have already told you that I owe Gilmore nothing!" "I should be glad to think it, but I warn you to stand clear of him and his concerns, for I am going to investigate the truth of Montgomery's story," declared the judge.
"What did he tell you ?" Marshall spoke with an effort.
"That his evidence in the North case was false, that it was inspired by Gilmore." Marshall passed a shaking hand across his face.
"Nonsense!" he said.
"His story will be worth looking into.

He stood for the truth of what he said in part, he insisted that he saw a man cross McBride's shed on the night of the murder and drop into the alley, and the man was not John North.