"Andrews!" he called.

He introduced an alert, broad-shouldered young man of years of much
indiscretion and with a charming and inconsequent manner.

"Mr. Thorndike is interested in Henry Spear, coming up for sentence in
Part Three this morning. Wants to speak for him. Take him over with
you."

The district attorney shook hands quickly, and retreated to his private
office. Mr. Andrews took out a cigarette and, as he crossed the floor,
lit it.

"Come with me," he commanded. Somewhat puzzled, slightly annoyed, but
enjoying withal the novelty of the environment and the curtness of his
reception, Mr. Thorndike followed. He decided that, in his ignorance, he
had wasted his own time and that of the prosecuting attorney. He should
at once have sent in his card to the judge. As he understood it, Mr.
Andrews was now conducting him to that dignitary, and, in a moment, he
would be free to return to his own affairs, which were the affairs of
two continents. But Mr. Andrews led him to an office, bare and small,
and offered him a chair, and handed him a morning newspaper. There were
people waiting in the room; strange people, only like those Mr.
Thorndike had seen on ferry-boats. They leaned forward toward young Mr.
Andrews, fawning, their eyes wide with apprehension.

Mr. Thorndike refused the newspaper. "I thought I was going to see the
judge," he suggested.

"Court doesn't open for a few minutes yet," said the assistant district