n a just fight--would you not do
it?"

So the Judge went on, gracious and plausible--and so subtly and
exquisitely corrupting! Underneath his smoothly flowing sentences
Montague could feel the presence of one fundamental thought; it was
unuttered and even unhinted, but it pervaded the Judge's discourse as a
mood pervades a melody. The young lawyer had got a big fee, and he had
a nice easy case; and as a man of the world, he could not really wish
to pry into it too closely. He had heard gossip, and felt that his
reputation required him to be disturbed; but he had come, simply to be
smoothed down the back and made at ease, and enabled to keep his fee
without losing his good opinion of himself.

Montague quit, because he concluded that it was not worth while to try
to make himself understood. After all, he was in the case now, and
there was nothing to be gained by a breach. Two things he felt that he
had made certain by the interview--first, that his client was a
"dummy," and that it was really a case of thieves falling out; and
second, that he had no guarantee that he might not be left in the lurch
at any moment--except the touching confidence of the Judge in some
parties unknown.

CHAPTER XIX

Montague came home with his mind made up that there was nothing he
could do except to be more careful next time. For this mistake he would
have to pay the price.

He had still to learn what the full price was. The day after his return
there came a caller--Mr. John C. Burton, read his card. He proved to be
a canvassing agent for the company which published the scandal-sheet of
Society. They were preparing a de luxe account of the prominent
families of New York; a very sumptuous affair, with a highly exclusive
set of subscribers, at the rate of fifteen hundred dollars per set.
Would Mr. Montague by any chance care to have his family included?

And Mr. Montague explained politely that he was a comparative stranger
in New York, and would not belong properly in such a volume. But the
agent was not satisfied with this. There might be reasons for his
subscribing, even so; there might be special cases; Mr. Montague, as a
stranger, might not realize the important nature of the offer; after he
had consulted his friends, he might change his mind--and so on. As
Montague listened to this series of broad hints, and took in the
meaning of them, the colour mounted, to his cheeks--until at last he
rose abruptly and bid the man good