“Humph! The––that girl?”
“Brought up from Avon, and lodged in the Tombs, sir.”
“You tell Judge Spencer that if he allows her bail I’ll see that his federal appointment is killed, understand?”
“You may rely upon him, sir.”
Ames regarded the man with a mixture of admiration and utter contempt. For Hood stood before him a resplendent example 222 of the influence of the most subtle of all poisons, the insidious lure of money. Soul and body he had prostituted himself and his undoubted talents to it. And now, were he to be turned adrift by Ames, the man must inevitably sink into oblivion, squeezed dry of every element of genuine manhood, and weighted with the unclean lucre for which his bony fingers had always itched.
“Will Cass defend Ketchim?” the master asked.
“Oh, doubtless. He knows most about the formation of the defunct Simití company.”
“Well, see him and––you say he’s young, and got a wife and baby? Offer him twenty-five thousand to quit the case.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do, sir,” returned Hood, shaking his head dubiously. “I’ve had men talking with him regarding the trial, and he––”
“Then get him over here. I’ll see if I can’t persuade him,” growled Ames in an ugly tone.