"Any other case?" said his lordship. "We are not trying any other case."

"Not now, your Lordship." John Steele bowed. "I ask your lordship's
indulgence for the"--an instant's ironical light gleamed from the dark
eyes--"superfluity."

"Witness may go," said his lordship bruskly.

Dandy Joe, a good deal damaged in the world's estimation, stepped down;
his erstwhile well-curled mustache of brick-dust hue seemed to droop as
he slunk out of the box; he appeared subdued, almost frightened,--quite
unlike the jaunty little cockney that had stepped so blithely forth to
give his testimony.

The witnesses all heard, John Steele, for the defense, spoke briefly;
but his words were well-chosen, his sentences of classic purity. As the
girl listened, it seemed to her not strange that Captain Forsythe, as
well as others, perhaps, should be drawn hither on occasions when this
man appeared. Straight, direct logic characterized the speech from
beginning to end; only once did a suggestion of sentiment--curt pity for
that gin-besotted thing, the prisoner!--obtrude itself; then it passed
so quickly his lordship forgot to intervene, and the effect remained, a
flash, illuminating, Rembrandt-like!

Time slipped by; the judge looked at his watch, bethought him of a big
silver dish filled with an amber-hued specialty of the Ship and Turtle,
and adjourned court. His address interrupted by the exigencies of the
moment, John Steele began mechanically to gather up his books; his face
that had been marked by the set look of one determined to drive on at
his best with a task, now wore a preoccupied expression. The prisoner