That's a pity, now, isn't it? Suppose you try to get back a little of
the old limp."

Harry laughed. "No, I'll walk straight. Besides they've seen me on the
street, and even in my father's bank."

"Too bad, too bad. Why did you do it?"

"How could I guess there would be such an impossible development?
Until I saw Miss Ballard here in this cell I thought my cousin dead.
Why, my reason for coming here was to confess my crime, but they won't
give me the chance. They arrest me first of all for killing myself.
Now that I know my cousin lives I don't seem to care what happens to
me, except for--others."

"But man! You must put up a fight. Suppose your cousin is no longer
living; you don't want to spend the rest of your life in the
penitentiary because he can't be found."

"I see. If he is living, this whole trial is a farce, and if he is
not, it's a tragedy."

"We'll never let it become a tragedy, I'll promise you that." The
young man spoke with smiling confidence, but when he reached his
office again and had closed the door behind him, his manner changed
quickly to seriousness and doubt.

"I don't know," he said to himself, "I don't know if this story can be
made to satisfy a jury or not. A little shady. Too much coincidence to
suit me." He sat drumming with his fingers on his desk for a while,
and then rose and turned to his books. "I'll have a little law on this
case,--some point upon which we can go to the Supreme Court," and for
the rest of that day and long into the night Nathan Goodbody consulted
with his library.

In anticipation of the unusual public interest the District Attorney
directed the summoning of twenty-five jurors in addition to the
twenty-five of the regular panel. On the day set for the trial the
court room was packed to the doors. Inside the bar were the lawyers
and the officers of the court. Elder Craigmile sat by Milton Hibbard.
In the front seats just outside the bar were the fifty jurors and back
of them were the ladies who had come early, or who had been given the
seats of their gentlemen friends who had come early, and whose
gallantry had momentarily gotten the better of their judgment.

The stillness of the court room, like that of a church, was suddenly
broken by the entrance of the judge, a tall, spare man, with gray hair
and a serious outlook upon life. As he walked toward his seat, the
lawyers and officers of the court rose and stood until he was seated.
The clerk of the court rea