ightest tinge of gratification
a little chorus of chafing congratulations upon his latest triumph,
and left the room without any inclination to play, although there was
a vacant place at his favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he
wandered back again into the hall, and here came his first gleam of
returning sensation. He came face to face with his most intimate friend,
Andrew Wilmore. The latter, who had just hung up his coat and hat,
greeted him with a growl of welcome.

"So you've brought it off again, Francis!"

"Touch and go," the barrister remarked. "I managed to squeak home."

Wilmore laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder and led the way towards
two easy-chairs in the lounge.

"I tell you what it is, old chap," he confided, "you'll be making
yourself unpopular before long. Another criminal at large, thanks to
that glib tongue and subtle brain of yours. The crooks of London will
present you with a testimonial when you're made a judge."

"So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?" Francis asked
curiously.

"My dear fellow, how do I know or care?" was the indifferent reply.
"I shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt about it. You
probably know, anyway."

"That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech," Francis
assured his friend emphatically. "The fellow was given an opportunity of
making a clean breast of it, of course--Wensley, his lawyer, advised him
to, in fact--but the story he told me was precisely the story he told at
the inquest."

They were established now in their easy-chairs, and Wilmore summoned a
waiter.

"Two large whiskies and sodas," he ordered. "Francis," he went on,
studying his companion intently, "what's the matter with you? You don't
look as though your few days in the country last week had done you any
good."

Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were alone.

"I was all right when I came up, Andrew," he muttered. "This case has
upset me."

"Upset you? But why the dickens should it?" the other demanded, in a
puzzled tone. "It was quite an ordinary case, in its way, and you won
it."

"I won it," Francis admitted.

"Your defence was the most ingenious thing I ever heard."

"Mostly suggested, now I come to think of it," the barrister remarked
grimly, "by the prisoner himself."

"But why are you upset about it, anyway?" Wilmore persisted.

Francis rose to his feet, shook himself, and with his elbow resting upon
the