g time, struggling with himself, until his face
was all drawn, but at last he touched the red-haired reporter on the
elbow.

"She is right," said he. "The incident is closed."

Something in his low voice was so ringing that for a moment none of us
spoke, and I could hear the drawn curtains at the window going
flap-flap-flap in the breeze.

At last the reporter looked at his watch. "Well, Judge," he said, with
his freckled smile, "I'm sorry you can't see it my way."

"You want to catch your train," the master replied quietly. "It's all
right. I have a revolver here in the drawer."

"Probably I'm the one he'll want to see, anyway," Mr. Roddy said in his
cool, joking way. "Quite a little drama? Good-night, sir."

"Good-night," said the Judge, without taking his eyes from the man on
the floor. "Good-night, Mr. Roddy."

I can remember how the door closed and how we heard the reporter's
footsteps go down the walk. Then came the click of the gate and after a
minute the toot of the train coming from far away and then the silence
of the night. Then out of the silence came the sound of Monty Cranch's
breathing, and then the curtains flapped again. But still the Judge
stood over the other man, thinking and thinking.

Finally I could not stand it any longer; I had to say something.
Anything would do. I pointed to the baby, sound asleep as a little
kitten in the chair.

"Have you seen her?" I asked.

"What!" he answered. "How did she come there? You brought her down?"

"That isn't Julianna," said I. "It's his!"

"His baby!" the Judge cried. "That man's baby!"

I nodded without speaking, for then, just as if Monty had heard his
name spoken, he rolled over onto his elbow and sat up. First he looked
at the Judge and then I saw that his eyes were turning toward me. I felt
my spine alive with a thousand needle pricks.

"Will he know me?" thought I.

He looked at me with the same surprised look--the same old look I
thought, but he only rubbed his neck with one hand and crept up and sat
in the big chair, and tried to look up into the Judge's face. He tried
to meet the eyes of the master. They were fixed on him. He could not
seem to meet the gaze. And there were the two men--one a wreck and a
murderer, the other made out of the finest steel. One bowed his head
with its mat of hair, the other looked down on him, pouring something on
him out of his soul.

"Well, I'm sober now," said Cranch, after a long time. "I know what