it could not make room for one more.

If one had been disposed for it, a lesson in the nether nature of man
might have been studied in the faces of those pressing eagerly about the
railing, alert with morbid curiosity.

In the crowd were both men and women and others little more than
children: many who had themselves figured in the prisoner's dock in that
same court-room: many more who would be there, and all, or nearly all,
of that waste class that make the criminals and the crimes of a great
community.

Littell sat at the table of the defence quietly observing the scene
about him, very likely engaged with thoughts such as had suggested
themselves to me: but his face wore a more serious expression than was
habitual to it, and there was a look of self-reliance and determination
in the brave eyes and about the firm mouth that inspired me again with
some confidence.

Winters had an able jurist and a dominating personality to guide his
fortunes and I felt there was a chance for him even against the odds.

At the table of the prosecution sat the District Attorney and the junior
he had selected to assist him in my stead. They were good lawyers, and
would handle their case well I knew, but the work they were to engage in
was an old story to them,--a matter of almost daily routine,--and they
would therefore lack the concentrated interest and the nervous force
that attend upon the defence.

There also, seated within the rail among the witnesses, were Van Bult,
Davis, Belle Stanton, Mrs. Bunce, Miles, and Benton, and all the others
that had already figured in the case.

I felt a strong inclination to take my seat beside Littell, for that was
where my sympathies led me, but with only a glance in his direction, I
took the chair a bailiff pushed up for me to the table of the
prosecution.

Then a door opened and closed at one side of the room, and the crier in
a brisk tone ordered "Hats off!"

A moment later, as the Judge took his seat on the bench, the same voice
intoned: "Oyez! Oyez! The court is now in session!" and then the bustle
of business took possession of the scene.

The Judge adjusted his collar and tried the points of some new pens; the
lawyers sent the bailiffs hurrying for "authorities"; the clerks rustled
the pages of their dockets, and the reporters sprawled over their table
and scribbled copy.

Next a whispered conversation took place between the District Attorney
and the Judge, and a moment later, by