"Come, let us go up together," said Rick.
At the gates, however, Dick began to grow uneasy. His brother's reputation on earth among "the godly" was a curiously unwelcome memory to Dick now the Bar was so near and the Doom's-man was in sight.
"You go first," said Dick to his brother; falling behind as if to dissociate himself from him.
Rick passed the gate and stood silently at the Bar.
"Place the brothers side by side," said the Doom's-man sternly.
"If you please," began Dick, stumbling in his speech, so afraid was he of being confounded in the judgment of his brother; "If you please. . . ."
Said the Doom's-man: "Let the Advocates state the case."
The Black-robed Advocate claimed Rick boldly. The verdict of Rick's fellow-citizens, he asserted, was emphatic on the point that Rick was legitimately his. And he went with the majority, and claimed a verdict accordingly.
The White-robed Advocate advanced, more hesitatingly, that Dick presumably should go with him. The Community, he averred, had long ago decided that only in this way would justice have its due.
The Doom's-man's verdict was simplicity itself.