ll; full of the propensities of Don Juan, he wins the
respect and love of Elizabeth Waldron! Shameful commentary upon
society, and---- Yes, Miss Strong, who is there? Judge Blodgett: send
him right in. . . . Judge, I'm glad you came in. I'm very glad! I
need your advice and aid."

"All right," said the judge, biting a cigar. "What's up, Florian?"

"You've seen a Mr. Edgington?"

"Your lawyer," replied the judge. "The _Notes_ tell all about him."

"Well," resumed Amidon, "he's been here, and I learn that there is some
very important litigation pending, which we've got to win, because it
involves others--Miss Waldron and her aunt--and this man Brassfield
never could give Edgington the evidence he needed in order to win."

"Why couldn't he?"

"Because," said Amidon, with the air of a man uttering something of the
deepest significance, "it involves matters happening before June, 1896,
and Brassfield was not in existence until the twenty-seventh of June!
I've promised Edgington that you will get him the evidence he wants."

"What's the nub of the case?" asked the judge.

"A man claims I gave him some rights--or that Brassfield did--you
understand?--"

"I see."

"--in March, 1896."

"H'm!" exclaimed the judge contemptuously. "March, eh? Why, we can
subpoena the whole town of Hazelhurst, and show that you were at that
time acting as a pillar of society there, every day in that year, up to
June twenty-seventh!"

"But don't you see," said Amidon, "that proving this makes my whole
story public?"

Judge Blodgett thoughtfully gazed into space.

"Yes, it would appear that way," said he, at last; "but is it
necessarily so? You can testify that you were in Hazelhurst at that
time, and legally, that's the same thing as saying that Brassfield
was--I guess; and I'll swear to it, too; and if they aren't too
searching on cross-examination, we may slide through--but there'll be
some ticklish spots. I'll see Mr. Edgington, and find out just how
strong a fabric of perjury we've got to go against. We may have to get
more witnesses--and that'll be thin ice, too. I'll look in again this
afternoon."

"Please do so," replied Mr. Amidon. "Look at these letters! Do you
suppose your _Notes_ would shed any light on what they're driving at?"

The judge looked them over.

"I don't remember anything in the _Notes_," said he, "regarding these
matters. But you could take 'em up to the hotel, and Madame le Claire
coul