to have
a chance to think the problem out to some effective conclusion. What
should he do? Should he find Blenkinsop and get him and the United Press
representative together at once, laying before them the damning evidence
and telling them to use it as they could? Or was there some surer way of
firing the mine of protest and exposure?

There was one other way, at least, but the mere thought of it made him
sick and shaken. As an upright citizen and a member of the bar, was it
not his duty to lay the evidence, not before the public in the
newspapers, but before a competent court of justice? And in that event,
was there in this land of graft and corruption a judge sufficiently
fearless and incorruptible to act with the needful vigor and promptness?

When Blount asked himself this question, the answer came quickly. Though
it was the common accusation, well or ill founded, that the lower courts
of the State were the creatures of the corporations, the judges on the
supreme bench still commanded the respect of the people. Hemingway, the
chief justice, was peculiarly a man for a crisis; strong, honest, and
entirely fearless; a man who would not stop to haggle over nice
questions of precedent and jurisdiction where the public welfare
demanded prompt and effective action.

For a long half-hour Blount sat staring absently at the desk litter,
trying to decide between the two courses open to him. He knew that his
father and Judge Hemingway had been lifelong friends, and this added
another drop of bitterness to a cup which was already overflowing. None
the less, he was confident that the judge would do his duty as he saw
it. It was a merciless thing to do--to make this just judge the slayer
of the friend of his youth; but at the end Blount reached for the
telephone-book and began to search for the chief justice's residence
number. Before he could find it the phone bell rang.

"Well?" he answered shortly, putting the receiver to his ear.

It was Miss Anners who was at the other end of the wire, and he was
instantly aware of the note of anxiety in her voice.

"_Evan!_" she exclaimed; "you don't know what a fright you have given
us! What are you doing at your office when you ought to be here and in
bed?"

Blount drew the desk instrument closer and tried to put her off lightly.

"I'm all right again. I turned out early this morning to make up for
lost time. You wouldn't expect me to stay in bed for more than a day to
oblige a c