o o'clock--an' I'm always glad to have the
chance to chat with distinguished counsel from down below--I don't get
down thar oftentimes myself."

The man to whom Judge Renshaw spoke seemed conspicuously out of his own
environment in this musty place of unwashed windows, cob-webbed walls
and cracking plaster.

His dress bespoke the skill of a good tailor and his fingers were
manicured. He drew out a cigar case and proffered a perfecto to his
honor, then deliberately snipped the end from his own. Evidently he had
something embarrassing to say.

"Judge," he began briefly, "I've been here now for upwards of a week,
trying to get this business under way. You know what the results have
been--or rather have not been. I've encountered total failure."

"Hasn't the prosecutin' attorney afforded you every facility, Mr.
Sidney?" The inquiry was put in a tone of the utmost solicitude.

"That's not the difficulty," objected the visiting lawyer. "Mr.
Hurlburt has shown me every courtesy--in precisely the way you have.
Your instructions to the grand jurors were admirable. The prosecutor
consented at once that I should participate in getting the evidence
before them, and in assisting him to punish the guilty when indicted.
It is now February. Jerry Henderson was murdered before the first snow
flew. Those subpoenas which we have sent out have for the most part
come back--unserved. What witnesses we have secured might as well be
mutes. The thing is inexplicable. Surely the judge can do something to
energize the machinery of his court out of utter lethargy. I appeal to
you, sir. We all know that Henderson was murdered ... we all suspect
who had it done, yet we make no progress."

Judge Renshaw nodded his head affirmatively.

"It looks right considerably that way." Then seeing the impatient
expression on the other face, he spoke again--in a different voice,
leaning forward. "Mr. Sidney, I reckon I know what's in your mind.
You're thinkin' that both me and the prosecutin' attorney ain't much
better than tools of Kinnard Towers.... Maybe there's a grain of truth
in it. I'm judge of a district that takes in several county seats and I
ride the circuit. Before I was elected to the bench I was a backwoods
lawyer that sometimes knew the pinch of hunger. You say Kinnard Towers
is dishonest--and worse. If I said it, I _might_ hold office till the
next election--but more likely I wouldn't live that long."

As the notable attorney from the cit