he narrow cells, each with its
involuntary occupant in degrading stripes and closely cropped hair, and
the uniformed guards armed with rifles. She remembered how her mother
wept and how she had wondered why they kept her poor da-da in such an
ugly place. To think that after all these years she was again to go
through a similar experience.

She had nerved herself for this ordeal. Anxious as she was to see Howard
and learn from his lips all that had happened, she feared that she would
never be able to see him behind the bars without breaking down. Yet she
must be strong so she could work to set him free. So much had happened
in the last two days. It seemed a month since the police had sent for
her at midnight to hurry down to the Astruria, yet it was only two days
ago. The morning following her trying interview with Captain Clinton in
the dead man's apartment she had tried to see Howard, but without
success. The police held him a close prisoner, pretending that he might
make an attempt upon his life. There was nothing for her to do but wait.

Intuitively she realized the necessity of immediately securing the
services of an able lawyer. There was no doubt of Howard's innocence,
but she recalled with a shiver that even innocent persons have suffered
capital punishment because they were unable to establish their
innocence, so overwhelming were the appearances against them. He must
have the best lawyer to be had, regardless of expense. Only one name
occurred to her, the name of a man of international reputation, the mere
mention of whose name in a courtroom filled the hearts of the innocent
with hope and the guilty with dread. That man was Judge Brewster. She
hurried downtown to his office and waited an hour before he could see
her. Then he told her politely, but coldly, that he must decline to
take her case. He knew well who she was, and he eyed her with some
curiosity, but his manner was frigid and discouraging. There were plenty
of lawyers in New York, he said. She must go elsewhere. Politely he
bowed her out. Half of a precious day was already lost. Judge Brewster
refused the case. To whom could she turn now? In despair, almost
desperate, she drove up-town to Riverside Drive and forced an entrance
into the Jeffries home. Here, again, she was met with a rebuff. Still
not discouraged, she returned to Judge Brewster's office. He was out and
she sat there an hour waiting to see him. Night came and he did not
return. Almost p