orning papers, you will see
that he was at the Central Criminal Court, trying some case or other,
all day yesterday. The man who pleads 'Not Guilty,' and who pays for
his defence, expects to be heard out to the bitter end. It is really
only natural."

Saton, who had been left alone in his corner, rose suddenly to his
feet and came into the circle. He handed his cup to his hostess, and
turned toward Rochester.

"You were speaking of judges?" he remarked.

Rochester nodded.

"In a few moments," he said, "you will probably meet the cleverest one
we have upon the English bench. Without his robe and wig, some people
find him insignificant. Personally, I must confess that I never feel
his eyes upon me without a shiver. They say that he never loses sight
of a fact or forgets a face."

"And what is the name of this wonderful person?" Saton asked.

"Lord Guerdon," Rochester answered. "Even though you have spent so
little time in England of late years, you must have heard of him."

The curtains were suddenly thrown aside, and a footman entered
announcing the newly-arrived guest. From the hall beyond came the
sound of a departing motor, and the clatter of luggage being brought
in. The footman stood on one side.

"Lord Guerdon!" he announced.

Lady Mary held out her hands across the tea-tray. Rochester came a
few steps forward. Everyone ceased their conversation to look at the
small, spare figure of the man who, clad in a suit of travelling
clothes of gray tweed, and cut after a somewhat ancient pattern,
insignificant-looking in figure and even in bearing, yet carried
something in his clean-shaven, wrinkled face at once impressive and
commanding. Everyone seemed to lean forward with a little air of
interest, prepared to exchange greetings with him as soon as he had
spoken to his host and hostess. Only Saton stood quite still, still as
a figure turned suddenly into stone. No one appeared to notice him, to
notice the twitching of his fingers, the almost ashen gray of his
cheeks--no one except the girl with whom he had been talking, and
whose eyes had scarcely left his. He recovered himself quickly. When
Rochester turned towards him, a moment or so later, he was almost at
his ease.

"You find us all old friends, Guerdon," he said, "except that I have
to present to you my friend Mr. Saton. Saton, this is Lord Guerdon,
whose caricature you have doubtless admired in many papers, comic and
otherwise, and who I am happy to as