a cent. And, then, it was my
money--and anything I give my niece is charity. She's not entitled--"

Garrett appeared at the door. "Miss Coates," he announced, "and Mr.
Winthrop." Judge Gaylor raised a hand for silence, and as Mr. Hallowell
sank back in his chair, Helen Coates, the only child of Catherine
Coates, his sister, and the young District Attorney of New York came
into the library. Miss Coates was a woman of between twenty-five and
thirty, capable, and self-reliant. She had a certain beauty of a severe
type, but an harassed expression about her eyes made her appear to be
always frowning. At times, in a hardening of the lower part of her face,
she showed a likeness to her uncle. Like him, in speaking, also, her
manner was positive and decided.

In age the young man who accompanied her was ten years her senior, but
where her difficulties had made her appear older than she really was,
the enthusiasm with which he had thrown himself against those of his own
life, had left him young.

The rise of Winthrop had been swift and spectacular. Almost as soon as
he graduated from the college in the little "up-state" town where he
had been educated, and his family had always lived, he became the
prosecuting attorney of that town, and later, at Albany, represented
the district in the Assembly. From Albany he entered a law office in
New York City, and in the cause of reform had fought so many good fights
that on an independent ticket, much to his surprise, he had been lifted
to the high position he now held. No more in his manner than in his
appearance did Winthrop suggest the popular conception of his role. He
was not professional, not mysterious. Instead, he was sane, cheerful,
tolerant. It was his philosophy to believe that the world was innocent
until it was proved guilty.

He was a bachelor and, except for two sisters who had married men of
prominence in New York and who moved in a world of fashion into which he
had not penetrated, he was alone.

When the visitors entered, Mr. Hallowell, without rising, greeted his
niece cordially.

"Ah, Helen! I am glad to see you," he called, and added reproachfully,
"at last."

"How do you do, sir?" returned Miss Helen stiffly. With marked
disapproval she bowed to Judge Gaylor.

"And our District Attorney," cried Mr. Hallowell. "Pardon my not rising,
won't you? I haven't seen you, sir, since you tried to get the Grand
Jury to indict me." He chucked delightedly. "You didn't suc