"Don't be so positive," retorted the lawyer heatedly, his color
rising at the other's incredulous tone. "Helen McIntyre telephoned
me to meet her, and - by Jove, here she comes," as a slight stir
at the back of the court room caused him to glance in that direction.

A gray-haired patrolman, cap in hand, was in the lead of the small
procession which filed up the aisle, and Clymer gazed in astonishment
at Helen McIntyre and her twin sister, Barbara. What had brought
them at that hour to the police court?

The court room was filled with men, both white and black, while a
dozen or more slatternly negro women were seated here and there.
The Assistant District Attorney's plea for a postponement of the
Sylvester case on the ground of the absence of an important witness
and the granting of his plea was entirely lost on the majority of
those in the court room, their attention being wholly centered on
Helen McIntyre and Barbara, whose bearing and clothes spoke of a
fashionable and prosperous world to which nearly all present were
utterly foreign.

Barbara, sensitive to the concentrated regard which their entrance
had attracted, drew closer to Dr. Amos Stone, their family physician,
who had accompanied them at her particular request. Except for Mrs.
Sylvester, she and her sister were the only white women in the room.

Before they could take the seats to which they had been ushered,
the clerk's stentorian tones sent the girls' names echoing down
the court room and Barbara, much perturbed, found herself standing
with Helen before the clerk's desk. There was a moment's wait and