d the setting interested her.
It was a good deal like a theater, she thought--the railed-off space
represented the stage where all action was to take place, the judge's
raised bench occupying the dominating position back center, the jury box
on her right with its two tiers of seats, the witness chair on its high
platform and between the judge and the jury. Close to the railing and at
right angles to the jury box, the eight-foot-long counsel table, where
she and Wiley had taken their places with their backs to the spectators
outside the railing, were so exactly like a theatrical audience. Then a
gavel beat sharply. Everyone stood up almost before being directed to
do so, and Judge Homans came into court. He came slowly through the
side door, his hands folded in front of him, his robes flowing about
him, as a priest comes from the sacristy.

The judge, like the clerk, immediately became absorbed in writing.
Foster sprang up and stood at his desk talking to him, but he never
raised his head. Foster kept glancing over his shoulder at the door.
Lydia knew for whom he was watching--like a puppy for its supper, she
thought.

A voice rang out:

"The case of the People against Lydia Thorne. Lydia Thorne to the bar."

To Lydia the words suggested an elaborate game. She glanced at Miss
Bennett, suppressing a smile, and saw that her companion's nerves were
shaken by the sinister sound of them. Wiley rose.

"Ready--for the defense," he said.

Foster, with his eyes still on the door, murmured with less conviction,
"Ready--for the people."

The clerk, laying aside his pen, had begun to take the names of the
jurors out of the box at his elbow.

"Josiah Howell."

"Seat Number 1," echoed the attendant antiphonally.

"Thomas Peck."

"Seat Number 2."

Wiley, bending to Lydia's ear, whispered, "I want you to challenge
freely--anyone you feel might be antagonistic. I trust to your woman's
intuition. The jury is the important----"

She ceased to hear him, for she saw Foster's face light up and she knew
that at last the district attorney was in court. She recognized his step
behind her, and almost immediately his tall figure came within range of
her vision. He sat down on the left next to Foster, crossed his arms,
fixed his eyes on each juror who entered the box. It was to Lydia like
the rising of the curtain on a great play.

"William McCann."

"Seat Number 12."

The jury was complete.

O'Bannon unfolded his long perso