ty and superiority of his presence even here. He was not even pale,
as she saw, just the same firm, calm soul she had always known him to
be. If he could only see her now; if he would only look so she could
lift her veil and smile! He didn't, though; he wouldn't. He didn't want
to see her here. But she would tell him all about it when she saw him
again just the same.

The two burglars were quickly disposed of by the judge, with a sentence
of one year each, and they were led away, uncertain, and apparently not
knowing what to think of their crime or their future.

When it came to Cowperwood's turn to be called, his honor himself
stiffened and straightened up, for this was a different type of man and
could not be handled in the usual manner. He knew exactly what he
was going to say. When one of Mollenhauer's agents, a close friend of
Butler's, had suggested that five years for both Cowperwood and Stener
would be about right, he knew exactly what to do. "Frank Algernon
Cowperwood," called the clerk.

Cowperwood stepped briskly forward, sorry for himself, ashamed of his
position in a way, but showing it neither in look nor manner. Payderson
eyed him as he had the others.

"Name?" asked the bailiff, for the benefit of the court stenographer.

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood."

"Residence?"

"1937 Girard Avenue."

"Occupation?"

"Banker and broker."

Steger stood close beside him, very dignified, very forceful, ready to
make a final statement for the benefit of the court and the public when
the time should come. Aileen, from her position in the crowd near the
door, was for the first time in her life biting her fingers nervously
and there were great beads of perspiration on her brow. Cowperwood's
father was tense with excitement and his two brothers looked quickly
away, doing their best to hide their fear and sorrow.

"Ever convicted before?"

"Never," replied Steger for Cowperwood, quietly.

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood," called the clerk, in his nasal, singsong
way, coming forward, "have you anything to say why judgment should not
now be pronounced upon you? If so, speak."

Cowperwood started to say no, but Steger put up his hand.

"If the court pleases, my client, Mr. Cowperwood, the prisoner at the
bar, is neither guilty in his own estimation, nor in that of two-fifths
of the Pennsylvania State Supreme Court--the court of last resort in
this State," he exclaimed, loudly and clearly, so that all might hear.

O