“Well, so long, Judge,” drawled a man who had been sitting in the same open window.
“Are you Judge Lomax?” began Morey when the two had reached the musty office above. In the vague roster of the town celebrities the name was familiar to him.
“How can I serve you?” answered the man, kicking the sawdust-filled cuspidor into the middle of the floor. “I am Judge Lomax, but I have retired from the bench.”
“My name is Marshall, Mortimer Marshall.”
“Colonel Aspley Marshall’s son?”
“Yes sir.”
“Proud to meet you, my boy. Yo’ fathah was one of my best friends. How can I serve you?”
“Do you deal in lands? Do you buy and sell property?” asked Morey directly.
“I am an attorney,” answered Judge Lomax, “but my legal business throws me more or less into such business.”