ho sat, icy pale, staring straight in front of her. Her
left hand lay in that of Miss Julia Delafield. The eyes of the
latter--whose face was flushed, as was usual with her in any time of
mental emotion--remained fixed upon the man who was to prosecute this
boy, whose life was linked so closely with her own.

The great lawyer seemed not to see these women at all, and at first cast
no glance whatever at the defendant. The whole thing was rather trivial
for him; for although his fee really had been five hundred dollars--in
form of a note from Ephraim Adamson secured by a certain mortgage on
certain live stock--he knew well enough he honored Adamson and this
court by appearing here in a mere Justice trial.

"Order in the court!" said Blackman once more. "The case coming on for
trial is City of Spring Valley on the complaint of Ephraim Adamson
against Dewdonny Lane." At this bold declaration of what had been a half
credited secret to Spring Valley, all Spring Valley now straightened and
sat up, expectant. A sort of sigh, half a murmur of intense curiosity
went over the audience. It was indeed a great day for Spring Valley.
"Lane--Dewdonny Lane." So he _was_ the son of Aurora Lane--and had no
family name for his own!

Justice Blackman paused and looked inquiringly at the battered visage of
old Eph Adamson. He coughed hesitatingly. "I understand this case is one
of assault and battery. I believe, Judge Henderson, that you represent
the plaintiff in this case?"

"Yes, your Honor," said Judge Henderson slowly, turning his full eye
upon the court from its late resting place upon the campaign portrait of
himself as it appeared on the wall. "I have consented to be of such
service as I may in the case. Mr. Ephraim Adamson, our well-known friend
here, is ready for the trial of the cause now, as I understand. I may
say further, your Honor, that there will be a writ of _habeas corpus_
sued out in due course demanding the body of the son of Ephraim Adamson,
who is wrongfully restrained of his liberty at present in our city jail.

"As for this defendant----" Judge Henderson turned and cast an
insolently inquiring eye upon the young man at the side of the town
marshal.

"Who appears for the defendant?" demanded Judge Blackman austerely,
casting a glance upon the prisoner at the bar.

Don Lane arose, half hesitatingly. "Your Honor," said he, "I presume I
am the defendant in this case, although I hardly know what it's all
about. I