Luke's eyelids were again lowered. His hands were clasped in his lap. To a less astute man than Stein, he might have seemed asleep.
"I shall be glad," continued Stein, "if I can help you out of your embarrassing position."
"Who are your friends, Judge?" asked Luke.
The Judge smiled tolerantly.
"Come, come, Mr. Huber," he said; "you don't expect me to mention names, I know. All I will say on that point—all you can justly ask me to say—is that I don't come from them in my professional capacity. They haven't retained me to do this. They haven't even asked me to do it. I am acting entirely of my own volition, and on my own initiative, out of good will for all the parties concerned and not least of all for you."
"Yet you seem prepared to plead their case."
"I am—on my own initiative, I am, because their case is the right one, as I am sure you will end by seeing. In the first place, these letters are their property."
"I doubt," said Luke, "whether they would go into court to prove property."
"I do not think," said the unruffled Judge, "that they will go into court for any purpose—unless their burden of good nature is rendered intolerable. They can afford to appeal to their own conscience, because they are morally clear."
"Of the North Bridge wreck?"