"Then," said Mr. Macfarlane. "he has pleaded guilty; he has made no
defence, engaged no counsel."

"The boy is mad! completely mad!" cried the lawyer.

"Hush!" said the barrister; "the judge is speaking."

Mr. Forster stood in a most impatient mood, while the grave, clear voice
of the judge sentenced the prisoner. Then he turned to the barrister
abruptly.

"I tell you," he cried, "the boy is mad! Steal a watch! Why, he could
buy one-half the watches in London if he liked. I must see him. Come
this way."

"No," said Mr. Macfarlane, "he evidently does not wish to be known. I
shall not go near him."

"If he got into trouble, why in the world did he not send for me or for
some one else?" said the lawyer to himself. "It must be a young man's
frolic, a wager, a bet. He has spirit enough for anything. He never
could have been such a mad fool as to wreck his life for a paltry
watch."

Mr. Forster went to the room, where with other prisoners, John Smith
stood, awaiting his removal in the prison van. He went up to him and
touched him on the shoulder.

"Is it really you?" he cried, and the luminous gray eyes smiled into
his.