"Miss Martha Lacey wishes to see you, Judge."
The latter looked up with such suddenness as to endanger the situation of the high hat. "Who?" he demanded.
"Sh!" advised Dunham. "Miss Martha Lacey."
Judge Trent placed his hand on his assistant's arm as he stared up at him. "I guess you got the name wrong, Boy," he returned, in a hushed tone.
The young lawyer shook his head solemnly, but his lips refused solemnity. "Miss Martha Lacey," he repeated slowly.
His senior frowned. "These offices are badly planned, Dunham, badly planned. There is no back entrance."
"Exit, do you mean?" asked the other.
"What are you doing in here?" demanded the judge sternly, but careful not to raise his voice. "It was your place to find out her business."
"That's what I thought. In fact, I told her so."
"Well, what is it, then? You go back. I empower you to act." As Judge Trent spoke he pushed his young colleague with one bony hand.