As his solicitor Vladimir had engaged Peter Munger, one of the most famous members of the Bar, whose name alone was supposed to ensure success. He was a large man, with a forbidding forehead and an offensive smile; and his very aggressiveness was popularly supposed to weigh heavily with the Bench.
He spoke very little to any one, but scowled darkly upon Mainwaring, and muttered a rather unprofessional expletive beneath his breath, against his opponent's youth and inexperience.
"I had rather it had been Tremain," he had growled out to Count Mellikoff, when first apprised of the name of Patricia's solicitor, "it's worth my while to beat him; but that youngster—bah!" And out flew a shower of little chewed-up quids of paper, which it was the great man's habit to indulge in as a break-water to the more pernicious tobacco.
Count Mellikoff had shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands in deprecation, but made no other reply, upon which the giant snorted out something not over polite regarding foreigners, which Vladimir felt it was wiser not to notice.
As the last stroke of the hour died upon the air a moment's silence fell upon the assembly, and in that silence the peal of old Trinity's bells rang out, calling the worshippers to morning service. Vladimir, as he listened to the deep peal, thought of Petersburg, and found himself waiting involuntarily for the victorious pæan, "How glorious is our God in Zion," which in his country followed the striking of the hour, drowning the sadder notes of the Miserere.
But the bells ceased, and with their final chord of aërial music the small door behind the official bench was thrown open, and the legal cortège entered and took their seats in a silence that was absolute, save for the throbbing of the air stirred by the expectant breathing of the waiting crowd.
Judge Anstice, the District Judge for New York, was eminently imposing both in person and manner. He was unusually tall, with an intellectual head, a face of much power and kindliness, and a reputation for leniency whenever compatible with a strict observance of justice. It was to him that both John Mainwaring and Mr. Tremain looked instinctively for sympathy, though knowing him to be before all things a strict disciplinarian in all points pertaining to his profession. He was, moreover, a popular favourite with the public, who hailed his appearance with subdued satisfaction.
The half murmur of applause which greeted Judge Anstice developed into decided expressions of excitement as a tall, slight figure advanced, piloted up the narrow aisle by a policeman, and shown into the railed off space before the Bench. The new-comer was Patricia Hildreth, and the hush of expectation, that followed close upon the audible comments called forth by her appearance, became breathless, as, with a firm step and upright bearing, she took the place indicated and stood for a moment confronting her accusers.
Her beautiful face was colourless, her blue eyes looked black and luminous beneath the dark brows, her lips were resolutely closed, with just a touch of defiance in the firm set curves. She was dressed plainly in black, and she wore no veil.
It had never been Miss Hildreth's custom to hide her beauty when most triumphant; why should she do so now in the hour of her extremity?