moment before knocking at the door of Number Seven, and
the Honourable Hilary's voice responded. The door opened.

Hilary was seated, as usual, beside the marble-topped table, which was
covered with newspapers and memoranda. In the room were Mr. Ridout, the
capital lawyer, and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent. There
was an instant of surprised silence on the part of the three, but the
Honourable Hilary was the only one who remained expressionless.

"If you don't mind, gentlemen," said the visitor, "I should like to talk
to my father for a few minutes."

"Why, certainly, Austen," Mr. Ridout replied, with an attempt at
heartiness. Further words seemed to fail him, and he left the room
somewhat awkwardly, followed by Mr. Manning; but the Honourable Hilary
appeared to take no notice of this proceeding.

"Judge," said Austen, when the door had closed behind them, "I won't
keep you long. I didn't come down here to plead with you to abandon what
you believe to be your duty, because I know that would be useless. I
have had a talk with Dr. Tredway," he added gently, "and I realize that
you are risking your life. If I could take you back to Ripton I would,
but I know that I cannot. I see your point of view, and if I were in
your place I should do the same thing. I only wanted to tell you this--"
Austen's voice caught a little, "if--anything should happen, I shall be
at Mrs. Peasley's on Maple Street, opposite the Duncan house." He laid
his hand for an instant, in the old familiar way, on Hilary's shoulder,
and looked down into the older man's face. It may have been that
Hilary's lips trembled a little. "I--I'll see you later, Judge, when
it's all over. Good luck to you."

He turned slowly, went to the door and opened it, gave one glance at the
motionless figure in the chair, and went out. He did not hear the voice
that called his name, for the door had shut.

Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning were talking together in low tones at the
head of the stairs. It was the lawyer who accosted Austen.

"The old gentleman don't seem to be quite himself, Austen. Don't seem
well. You ought to hold him in he can't work as hard as he used to."

"I think you'll find, Mr. Ridout," answered Austen, deliberately, "that
he'll perform what's required of him with his usual efficiency."

Mr. Ridout followed Austen's figure with his eyes until he was hidden by
a turn of the stairs. Then he whistled.

"I can't make that fellow out," he exclai