course, was the old-fashioned Recorder had not been
trained as a corporation lawyer. He had fought his own way up in
politics from the ranks of the common people. He was a man with red
blood in his veins, a man of intense personal likes and dislikes and a
fearless dispenser of what he believed to be even-handed justice under
the law.

Stuart had based his plan of battle squarely on his knowledge of this
judge's character.

As Bivens listened to the sharp ring of his voice pronouncing sentence
on evil-doers and saw the officer snap his handcuffs on their wrists
his spirits revived. His lawyers were right, after all. Nothing Stuart
could say would affect the mind of such a man.

The young lawyer sat in silence beside the bowed form, awaiting his
case which the judge, at his request, had placed last. As the moment
drew near for the plea his nerve-tension grew intense. Waves of
passionate emotion swept his heart. His imagination began to blaze with
fires of eloquence that had been his birthright from two generations of
great lawyers in the South. Somehow this morning the scene before him
stirred his spirit with unusual power. Every crime apparently on the
calendar had its origin in the lust for money. Every felon sentenced
could have traced his ruin to this curse--thieves, embezzlers,
burglars, a man who had killed his partner in a dispute over money,
grafters, highwaymen, and last of all, two fallen women who had been
amassing a fortune out of the ruin of their sisters.

The figures in the court room grew dim and faded, and out of the mists
of the spirit world his excited fancy saw a crooked Red Shape rise over
all, stretch forth a long bony hand dripping with blood and filth and
begin to throw gold into a black bag. The face was hideous, but a crowd
of worshipful admirers followed eagerly in the footsteps of the Red
Shape, scrambling and fighting for the coins that slipped through the
dripping fingers.

He waked from his day dream with a start, to hear the clerk read in
quick tones:

"The People against Henry Woodman."

The judge looked at the dazed prisoner and said:

"What have you to say, Henry Woodman, why sentence should not be
imposed upon you for the crime of which you stand convicted by your own
plea?"

With a quick movement of his tall figure Stuart was on his feet, every
nerve and muscle strung to the highest tension. His long sinewy hands
were trembling so violently he could scarcely hold the slip o