"We have no choice," said Aurora Lane, after a time. "We'll get ready. Miss Julia, can't you go with me?"
"Of course," said Julia Delafield quietly.
CHAPTER IV
IN OPEN COURT
In his narrow little room upstairs in one of the two-story brick buildings which framed the public square of Spring Valley sat J. B. Blackman, Justice of the Peace, upholder of the majesty of the law. His throne was a knock-kneed, broken chair. In front of him stood a large scarred table, whereon rested the equipment of well-thumbed tomes which bolstered him in his administration of justice. In the room beyond stood a few scattered chairs, a long bench or two. On one wall, by way of ornament, was a steel engraving of Daniel Webster. On the opposite wall hung certain lithographs of political candidates of like party persuasion with Blackman himself, for this was a presidential year, and certain crises of political sort existed, among others the choosing of a Senator of the United States. Among lesser likenesses on Blackman's grimy wall loomed large the portrait of his party's candidate, to wit: the Honorable William Henderson, late County Attorney, late District Judge, late member of the Legislature, late candidate for Governor, late Chairman of the State Republican Committee; and by virtue of the death of the late incumbent in the office of United States senator, himself now present candidate for that lofty honor. Otherwise than as to these purposeful decorations the room had small adornment and appeared judicially austere.
The hour was mid-afternoon, but so swiftly had the news of recent events spread abroad in the little village that already the room of Justice of Peace Blackman was packed. Aurora Lane's baby—why, she had fooled everybody—her boy never had died at all—here he was—he had been through college—he'd been somewhere all the time and now he had come to life all at once, and had fought Eph Adamson and the eejit, and had been arrested and was going to be tried. Naturally, the stair leading to the Justice's office was lined, and sundry citizens were grouped about the bottom or under the adjacent awnings.
Much speculation existed as to the exact issue of the legal proceedings which, it seemed, had been instituted by old Eph Adamson. When that worthy appeared, escorted by the clerk of Judge Henderson's law office, room respectfully was made for the two, it being taken for granted that Judge Henderson would appear for Adamson, as he always had in earlier embroglios. Much greater excitement prevailed when presently there came none less than Tarbush, city marshal, followed by Don Lane and the two women. Then indeed all Spring Valley well-nigh choked of its own unsated curiosity.
They walked steadily, these three, staring ahead, following close after the marshal, who now officiously ordered room for himself and his charges. When they entered Blackman's court that worthy looked up, coughed solemnly, and resumed his occupation of poring over the legal authorities spread before him on the table. Don Lane made room for his mother and Miss Julia, and took his own place at the side of the marshal. The latter laid his hand upon his arm, as if to show the assembled multitude that he had no fear of his prisoner. Don shook off the hand impatiently.
Outside, unable to restrain themselves sufficiently to be seated within the room, old Kneebone and his friend Craybill walked up and down in the narrow hall—lined with signs of attorneys, real estate men, and insurance agents—from which made off the door of Blackman's office.