ions which to her were as
tragic as they were humiliating she saw Annandale in the visitors'
room at the Tombs. The room itself was not absolutely appalling, and
though there was a keeper present, he was quite out of earshot, very
oblivious, extremely civil and, parenthetically, handsomely paid.

Orr awaited her at the door. When she rejoined him her eyes were wet.

Orr looked at her. A little tune occurred to him. "Sylvia, Sylvia, I'm
a-thinking--" But after all, he reflected, Fanny is dead.

Instantly the girl reddened and very distantly, her head in the air,
announced, "We are betrothed."

"Ah," said Orr, "ah, indeed! The engagement will be rather long, I
fear."

"Oh, Melanchthon, don't say that. Arthur is as innocent as you are. I
know you don't believe it, but----"

Orr interrupted her. "It is not a question of what I believe.
Independent of your interest in the man he is my client. I owe him a
duty. That duty is to get him off, or to do my best to."

"I know you will," Sylvia fervently replied; "I feel it. So does
Arthur. Besides, the only one we have to fear is Harris."

Orr smiled grimly. "Harris, I understand, is not very well."

"Not well? What do you mean?" the girl wonderingly inquired.

"I mean," he enigmatically answered, "that next week when I have him
on the stand I propose to give him a little medicine."

Then he smiled again, grimly as before, with an air of personal
satisfaction.

CHAPTER VIII

THE DEFENDANT TO THE BAR

"Hats off!"

Through the great white room the cry vibrated, followed instantly by
another:

"Hear ye, hear ye, all ye having business with the Court of the
General Sessions of the City and County of New York, draw near, give
attention and ye shall be heard."

Within the Bar, restless as hyenas awaiting their prey, roamed the
district attorneys. Against that Bar, crouching there, were Orr and
his associate counsel, restless too, but prepared to spring. To the
rear were reporters, the flower of newspaperdom, handsome young men
dressed to the ears in resplendent collars and astounding cravats.
Back of them were the spectators, a solid mass, ladies of every degree
except the high one and, with or without them, men whom you would
recognize as first-nighters, others whom you would not recognize at
all. To the right of the Bar were witnesses for the prosecution,
experts in various matters of which gastronomy evidently was one. To
the left was the jury, and above