hands in their pockets and their backs turned to Mr. Thorndike,
they laughed and talked together. The subject of their discourse was one
Mike Donlin, as he appeared in vaudeville.

To Mr. Thorndike it was evident that young Andrews had entirely
forgotten him. He arose, and touched his sleeve. With infinite sarcasm
Mr. Thorndike began: "My engagements are not pressing, but--"

A court attendant beat with his palm upon the rail.

"Sit down!" whispered Andrews. "The judge is coming."

Mr. Thorndike sat down.

The court attendant droned loudly words Mr. Thorndike could not
distinguish. There was a rustle of silk, and from a door behind him
the judge stalked past. He was a young man, the type of the Tammany
politician. On his shrewd, alert, Irish-American features was an
expression of unnatural gloom. With a smile Mr. Thorndike observed that
it was as little suited to the countenance of the young judge as was
the robe to his shoulders. Mr. Thorndike was still smiling when young
Andrews leaned over the rail.

"Stand up!" he hissed. Mr. Thorndike stood up.

After the court attendant had uttered more unintelligible words, every
one sat down; and the financier again moved hurriedly to the rail.

"I would like to speak to him now before he begins," he whispered. "I
can't wait."

Mr. Andrews stared in amazement. The banker had not believed the young
man could look so serious.

"Speak to him, NOW!" exclaimed the district attorney. 'You've got to
wait till your man comes up. If you speak to the judge, NOW--" The voice
of Andrews faded away in horror.

Not knowing in what way he had offended, but convinced that it was
only by the grace of Andrews he had escaped a dungeon, Mr. Thorndike
retreated to his arm-chair.

The clock on the wall showed him that, already, he had given to young
Spear one hour and a quarter. The idea was preposterous. No one better
than himself knew what his time was really worth. In half an hour there
was a board meeting; later, he was to hold a post mortem on a railroad;
at every moment questions were being asked by telegraph, by cable,
questions that involved the credit of individuals, of firms, of even the
country. And the one man who could answer them was risking untold sums
only that he might say a good word for an idle apprentice. Inside the
railed enclosure a lawyer was reading a typewritten speech. He assured
his honor that he must have more time to prepare his case. It was one
of immens