the eyes of the financier
and the stenographer met. At the sight of the great man, Spear flushed
crimson, and then his look of despair slowly disappeared; and into his
eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude. He turned his head
suddenly to the wall.

Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute, and then sank back into his chair.

The first man in the line was already at the railing, and the questions
put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other
assistant district attorney and a court attendant. His muttered answers
were in turn repeated to the judge.

"Says he's married, naturalized citizen, Lutheran Church, die-cutter by
profession."

The probation officer, her hands filled with papers, bustled forward and
whispered.

"Mrs. Austin says," continued the district attorney, "she's looked into
this case, and asks to have the man turned over to her. He has a wife
and three children; has supported them for five years."

"Is the wife in court?" the judge said.

A thin, washed-out, pretty woman stood up, and clasped her hands in
front of her.

"Has this man been a good husband to you, madam?" asked the young judge.

The woman broke into vehement assurances. No man could have been a
better husband. Would she take him back? Indeed she would take him back.
She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband
from the pillory.

[Illustration: Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute, and then sank back into
his chair]

The judge bowed toward the probation officer, and she beckoned the
prisoner to her.

Other men followed, and in the fortune of each Mr. Thorndike found
himself, to his surprise, taking a personal interest. It was as good as
a play. It reminded him of the Sicilians he had seen in London in their
little sordid tragedies. Only these actors were appearing in their
proper persons in real dramas of a life he did not know, but which
appealed to something that had been long untouched, long in disuse. It
was an uncomfortable sensation that left him restless because, as he
appreciated, it needed expression, an outlet. He found this, partially,
in praising, through Andrews, the young judge who had publicly rebuked
him. Mr. Thorndike found him astute, sane; his queries intelligent, his
comments just. And this probation officer, she, too, was capable, was
she not? Smiling at his interest in what to him was an old story, the
younger man nodded.

"I like her looks," whispered the great man.