"Laurence, you were right and I was wrong. If you feel the thing as much as this, it's a chance for you. Nothing counts so much with a jury as feeling—real feeling—and you've got it. We'll take that case and you shall make the address—I'm not a jury lawyer myself, but I know one when I see him! You won't save your man, Laurence, but many a reputation has been made in a lost cause!"
And the Judge, advancing, took Carlin's hand and shook it warmly. Carlin looked at him with troubled, bewildered eyes, and the Judge clapped him on the shoulder briskly.
"Laurence, my boy, I knew you had it in you!" he cried.
"I'm not taking this case to distinguish myself," Carlin said angrily.
"No, no, of course not—that makes it all the better!" the Judge assured him, with the utmost cheerfulness.
But suddenly he became grave again and pondered.
"If the boys try anything it will be when they take him to the train," he reflected.
"I'm going home now to get a bite of dinner—then I'll be on hand if there's trouble. You coming, Judge?" Carlin took up his hat.
"I've got a letter to finish—then I'll be along. But, say, Laurence—"