him." So he argued, and he considered it no more wrong to wreck
the happiness of this honourable man than he would to have shot a
burglar in self-defence. So having thus tranquillized his
conscience he had gone to work in his usually thorough manner, and
his success had surpassed the most sanguine expectations.

This is what he had done.

Like many of our public servants whose labours are compensated
only in niggardly fashion by an inconsiderate country, Judge
Rossmore was a man of but moderate means. His income as Justice of
the Supreme Court was $12,000 a year, but for a man in his
position, having a certain appearance to keep up, it little more
than kept the wolf from the door. He lived quietly but comfortably
in New York City with his wife and his daughter Shirley, an
attractive young woman who had graduated from Vassar and had shown
a marked taste for literature. The daughter's education had cost a
good deal of money, and this, together with life insurance and
other incidentals of keeping house in New York, had about taken
all he had. Yet he had managed to save a little, and those years
when he could put by a fifth of his salary the judge considered
himself lucky. Secretly, he was proud of his comparative poverty.
At least the world could never ask him "where he got it."

Ryder was well acquainted with Judge Rossmore's private means. The
two men had met at a dinner, and although Ryder had tried to
cultivate the acquaintance, he never received much encouragement.
Ryder's son Jefferson, too, had met Miss Shirley Rossmore and been
much attracted to her, but the father having more ambitious plans
for his heir quickly discouraged all attentions in that direction.