right-hand man, like to learn to walk with my own legs."

The speech pleased the Honourable Hilary, and he put out his hand.

"It's a bargain, Austen," he said.

"I don't mind telling you now, Judge, that when I left the West I left it
for good, provided you and I could live within a decent proximity. And I
ought to add that I always intended going into the law after I'd had a
fling. It isn't fair to leave you with the impression that this is a
sudden determination. Prodigals don't become good as quick as all that."

Ripton caught its breath a second time the day Austen hired a law office,
nor did the surprise wholly cease when, in one season, he was admitted to
the bar, for the proceeding was not in keeping with the habits and
customs of prodigals. Needless to say, the practice did not immediately
begin to pour in, but the little office rarely lacked a visitor, and
sometimes had as many as five or six. There was an irresistible
attraction about that room, and apparently very little law read there,
though sometimes its occupant arose and pushed the visitors into the hall
and locked the door, and opened the window at the top to let the smoke
out. Many of the Honourable Hilary's callers preferred the little room in
the far corridor to the great man's own office.

These visitors of the elder Mr. Vane's, as has been before hinted, were
not all clients. Without burdening the reader too early with a treatise
on the fabric of a system, suffice it to say that something was
continually going on that was not law; and gentlemen came and went--fat
and thin, sharp-eyed and red-faced--who were neither clients nor lawyers.
These were really secretive gentlemen, though most of them had a