"Hush!" said the barrister; "the judge is speaking."
Mr. Forster stood in a most impatient mood, while the grave, clear voice of the judge sentenced the prisoner. Then he turned to the barrister abruptly.
"I tell you," he cried, "the boy is mad! Steal a watch! Why, he could buy one-half the watches in London if he liked. I must see him. Come this way."
"No," said Mr. Macfarlane, "he evidently does not wish to be known. I shall not go near him."
"If he got into trouble, why in the world did he not send for me or for some one else?" said the lawyer to himself. "It must be a young man's frolic, a wager, a bet. He has spirit enough for anything. He never could have been such a mad fool as to wreck his life for a paltry watch."
Mr. Forster went to the room, where with other prisoners, John Smith stood, awaiting his removal in the prison van. He went up to him and touched him on the shoulder.
"Is it really you?" he cried, and the luminous gray eyes smiled into his.
"Ah! Forster, I am sorry to see you. What has brought you here?"
"It is you," said the lawyer. "I was in hopes that my senses deceived me."
"I hope you will keep the fact of having seen me here a profound secret."