a specialty of criminal practice, but I did not consider
such qualified for the service: the best of them were so well known in
that capacity that their methods and arguments were received with
incredulity by the average juror: while of those who were engaged in
civil practice, I found none of such parts as I sought inclined to take
the case.

Whoever defended Winters would have an uphill fight to make. The
prosecution would be supported by the press and by public sentiment and
the jurors would probably take their seats in the box with every
disposition to deal fairly by the prisoner, but with an underlying
conviction that he was guilty and the trial but a legal formality.

To successfully combat such odds, to even command a serious hearing,
would require not only a lawyer of ability and standing, but a man
possessed of the quality of personal magnetism: for it is this that is
most potent in saving desperate cases. To find that man, however, seemed
next to hopeless.

Such, then, was the status of things at the hour of which I write, when
having submitted the facts and the difficulties, together with my
theories of the case, to my companions, I sat waiting expectantly for
some expression from them on the subject: but there ensued only
discouraging silence. Littell sat tipped back in his chair, smiling a
little to himself and reflectively watching the smoke curl slowly up
from the cigar held daintily between his fingers: while Van Bult,
leaning forward, contemplated the tips of his shoes, elevated apparently
for the purpose, and whistled a plaintive tune.

My position was not an agreeable one. I felt my friends were trying to
determine in their own minds just how best to deal with a man whom they
considered suffering from temporary mental aberration, and as I waited
for the decision, the silence seemed to grow thick around that
melancholy ditty of Van Bult's. At last, unable longer to stand it, I
said with sharp interrogation: "Well!"

It had the desired effect, and relieved the situation, at least for me.
Van Bult ceased whistling and Littell put his cigar back in his mouth
and both looked at me.

"I really don't see, Dallas," Van Bult said at length, "why you are
bothering yourself about this man's fate. It cannot differ so much from
many other cases you have come in contact with."

"It does, though," I answered, "because Winters and I are old friends,
were college boys together, because by White's will I am le