"Here, what you doing?" the clerk called out, getting up from his desk.
The sheriff glared and handled the manacles in his pocket with an intemperate disgust.
Marvin looked at him and laughed, answering the clerk. "I've got business in this court. I'm John Marvin and I'm appearing in the case the Pacific Railroad has brought against me." He did not deign to glance at Thomas, who had arisen, facing him, white from the blow to his hope of obtaining a judgment by default.
Marvin went calmly to the other end of the attorneys' table and opened up his shabby brown-canvas brief-case. He whistled to himself softly as he did so and glanced at Thomas, whose pallid mouth was drawn into a dogged sneer.
Blodgett went back to his seat just within the swinging gates that gave entrance behind the railing and sat glaring at Marvin. Quiet reigned in the court; then a faint shuffle of feet was heard beyond the door.
As Blodgett looked around, the door of the court-room opened gently and Bill Jones, clad in a Civil War veteran's uniform, faded from the sun, its brass buttons tarnished, and wearing his soldier's black soft hat with its gold cord cocked jauntily over one eye, sauntered down the aisle, holding out his hand to Marvin, who had jumped from his seat and bounded around the table to greet him.
"Hello, John!" Lightnin' drawled, grinning. "How's tricks? You look kinder legal this morning?"
CHAPTER XVI
As Bill made his way through the swinging gates, Blodgett put out a detaining arm, asking, with a scowl, "Here, what do you want?"