ing hands with a rising gentleman, sir!"

CHAPTER XXII

A SUMMONS OF THE NIGHT

There was a voice of moaning abroad in the night. It sounded as the rain
swept through the rocking trees and bent its spears against Judge
Maxwell's study windows; it sighed in his chimney like an old man
turning the ashes of spent dreams. It was an unkind night for one to be
abroad, for the rain seemed as penetrating as sorrow. Few passed upon
the street beneath the judge's windows where his dim light glowed.

Now and then the sound of hoofs and wheels rose above the wail of the
storm, sharp for a moment as it passed, quickly dimmed, quickly lost. It
was a night to be beneath one's own roof, beside one's own fire, feeling
the thankfulness for such plain comforts which one passes over in the
sunny days.

Judge Maxwell had a fire of hickory wood in his chimney, and a tall,
dark bottle on the small stand at his elbow. On the long table at his
other hand stood his shaded lamp, pouring its concentrated beams upon
his papers and books, leaving the corners of the room in shadows. The
judge sat with his glass in his hand, studying the fire.

All day, since the adjournment of court, the remarkable termination of
and disclosures in the case of State against Newbolt had been flowing
through his mind; all day, all evening, the white, strong face of the
defendant youth had stood before his eyes. He could not turn from it,
nor forget the appeal of those grave, gray eyes.

Never before, in his long and honorable life, had the judge been moved
by a case as this had moved him. There was nothing in all his rich
experience to equal it. In all his reading----

"_Hum-m-m_," said the judge, reflectively, remembering. He rose slowly
and went to the bookcase nearest the fire. He took down a leather-bound
volume and returned to his chair, where he sat with his legs crossed,
supporting the heavy book upon his knee. Reflectively he turned the
pages, reflectively he read, shaking his head when he had done.

"No, it is not a parallel," said he. "The matter involved has only a
remote similitude. I do not believe the annals of jurisprudence contain
another case to compare with that of our own Joe Newbolt."

The judge put the volume back in its place, pausing at the table as he
returned to his chair to turn down the flame of the lamp. It was too
bright for the judge's mood; it was inharmonious with the penitential
night. Almost like a voice, strident an