Norris looked straight at the speaker.

"You're right," he answered, "there is something wrong with that story."

"I knew there was. What?"

"The dates and the names. It happened yesterday and I was the lawyer. I
told it to you men because you're Members of the Bar, interested in the
administration of justice and the maintenance of law. I'm glad I did so,
if only to learn we're so accustomed to such things nowadays that we see
nothing in them but the obstinacy of clients and the need of jollying
petty officials. Isn't it a pretty commentary that the only doubt cast
upon the truth of this story is that the Sheriff should have failed to
inform himself of the conspiracy? Such things are going on every day and
we wink at them if we don't actually aid and abet them to facilitate our
private business. A fearful tyranny sways this whole city, clutching or
shadowing the tenements, brutalising the prisons, frustrating the
laws--wasting the treasury--corrupting the courts--and we not only
suffer it, but we tolerate the men of education who associate themselves
with such work--allow them to be members of our clubs and degrade
ourselves until----"

"Say--old man--hire a hall for next Tuesday evening and I'll take a
ticket. Honest I will. But I've got to leave you now and get back to
work."

Lawton rose and smiled good-naturedly at Norris, whose crimsoned face
bespoke repentance of his sudden outburst.

The other members followed Lawton's example, and soon there was no one
left in the room except Norris and "Silent" Bancroft.

For some moments neither man spoke. Then Bancroft rose and rolling his
cigar between his fingers thoughtfully studied its glowing ashes.

"Say, Norris," he began slowly, "do you--do you attend primaries?"

"Er--no."

"Um,--I thought not," remarked the old gentleman as he walked toward the
door.

THE BURDEN OF PROOF.

I.

It had been snowing ever since the Buffalo express left New York, but
the Pullman car passengers, comfortably housed, were no more conscious
of the weather than they were of each other. When the train stopped
unexpectedly at a flag station, the whispering of the snowflakes against
the window-panes made itself heard, and the presence of the passengers
made itself felt. The car instantly became a room whose occupants
discovered one another at the same moment, and sat staring into each
other's faces with all the gloom of fellow-patients in a doctor's
office. The silen