falls into a pathologic condition not unlike an epileptic fit. She
turns stiff and rigid as a block of wood, her eyes start from her head,
she plucks at her clothes. Finally, she falls into a faint and loses
consciousness of her surroundings. Such things do not belong on the
stage. It would be an outrage, an insult to public opinion to reproduce
this hospital scene in a theatre. I protest against it in the name of
good taste, in the name of public morality, in the name of American
decency. It is not seemly to drag that poor unfortunate child before an
audience and shamelessly exploit her misery, merely because the shipwreck
has placed her name in everybody's mouth."

Mr. Garry seated himself. He had pronounced his last words with sharp
emphasis. Mr. Samuelson, Lilienfeld's counsel, turned pale and arose
instantly. The reporters moved up closer and leaned forward, cocking
their ears to catch every word of the famous lawyer. He began in a very
faint voice. Frederick as a physician saw he was suffering from chronic
laryngitis, probably having exchanged his sound larynx for his millions.
Samuelson's delivery, his way of pleading were well known. At first he
would spare himself, in order later to take his auditors by storm in a
violent outburst of passion.

When the violent outburst of passion came, it did not fulfill the
expectations either of Lilienfeld, his client, or the reporters, or
Frederick. It was very noticeable that his indignation was forced, that
it did not flow from a natural source, but from a bottle standing long
uncorked. His iron will compelled him to simulate a feeling that he owed
it to his client to display. In fact, the tired, harassed man, with his
small, pointed beard and his worn, dirty-looking skin, was remarkable
merely as a victim of his profession. Even in that capacity he was not so
imposing as pitiable. Unfortunately, he was most pitiable when he gave
the whip and spurs to that jaded little charger, the Rosinante of his
eloquence, to ride down his opponent.

Mr. Garry and Mr. Ilroy, the Mayor, looked at each other significantly.
They seemed to wish to return good for evil and come to the help of this
knight of the sorry figure on his hack all skin and bone, which at the
end of the attack fell and broke his legs.

Lilienfeld could not restrain himself. He turned crimson. The veins of
his forehead swelled. The time for remaining silent had ended and the
time to speak had come. Since the man wi