highway, and leaning forward to see still further around the bend in the
road. Following his friend's gaze, Mr. Plateas also turned now and then;
he even turned squarely around and peered through his glasses to find
out what the judge was looking at; but seeing nothing he sat down again
erect upon his stool, and went on with the conversation.

At last Mr. Liakos espied what he was looking for. His eyes shone; the
expression of his whole face changed, and he made no further pretence of
listening to his friend's story about a recent controversy between two
learned professors in the University of Athens. Seeing the judge's eyes
fixed upon some object behind, Mr. Plateas stopped short, leaned his fat
hand on the table to aid the gyration that he was about to make upon his
stool, and was preparing for another effort to discover what could thus
fascinate Mr. Liakos, when the judge, divining his companion's purpose,
suddenly laid his hand on the professor's, and pressing it firmly, said
in a low voice, but with a tone of authority:

"Don't turn around!"

Mr. Plateas sat motionless, with mouth open and eyes fastened on those
of his friend, who was still staring at the road. The judge's look
showed that the object of his interest was coming nearer, but the
professor did not dare to stir or utter a word.

"Talk," whispered Mr. Liakos. "Continue the conversation."

"But, my dear friend, what shall I say? You've driven every idea out of
my head."

"Recite something."