d," he said,
forcibly.

"But not yours, Mr. Stanley."

"Mine? Why not?"

"Because you don't love her." Norah's tone was sad, half bitter. "Will
you forgive me? I'm sorry I provoked you.... But I had to know....
Aleta's such a dear. She's been so good to me."

The Christmas holidays brought handsome stock displays to all the
stores. San Francisco was still flush with insurance money but there was
a pinch of poverty in certain quarters. The Refugee Camps had been
cleared, public parks and squares restored to their normal state.

Langdon and Heney worked on. Another jury brought a verdict of "not
guilty" at the second trial of a trolley-bribe defendant. Some of the
newspapers had changed by almost imperceptible degrees, were veering
toward the cause of the defense.

Then, like a thunderbolt, in January, 1908, came news that the Appellate
Court had set aside the conviction of Ruef and Schmitz. Technical errors
were assigned as the cause of this decision. The people gasped. But some
of the newspapers defended the Appellate Judges' decree.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII

THE SHOOTING OF HENEY

Heney and Langdon, who had had, perhaps, some inkling of an adverse
decision, went grimly on. Enemies of Prosecution, backed by an enormous
fund, were setting innumerable obstacles in their way. Witnesses
disappeared or changed their testimony. Jurors showed evidence of having
been tampered with. Through a subsidized press an active propaganda of
Innuendo and Slander was begun.

Calhoun's trial still loomed vaguely in the distance. Heney, overworked
and harassed in a multitude of ways--keyed to a battle with ruffians,
gun-men and shysters as well as the ablest exponents of law, developed a
nervousness of manner, a bitterness of mind which sometimes led him
to extremes.

"He isn't sleeping well," his faithful bodyguard confided to Frank one
afternoon when they met on Van Ness avenue. "He comes down in the
morning trying to smile but I know he feels as though he'd like to bite
my head off. I can see it in his eyes. He needs a rest."

"Mr. Calhoun evidently thinks so, too," retorted Stanley. "The Honorable
Pat is trying to retire him."

"He'll never succeed," said the other explosively. "Frank Heney's not
that kind. He'll fight on till he drops.... But I hate to see those
boughten lawyers ragging him in court."

Langdon, more phlegmatic of temperament, stood the gaff with less
apparent friction. Hiram Johnson gave aid now and the