“And our District Attorney,” cried Mr. Hallowell. “Pardon my not rising, won’t you? I haven’t seen you, sir, since you tried to get the Grand Jury to indict me.” He chucked delightedly. “You didn’t succeed,” he taunted.
Winthrop shook hands with him, smiling, “Don’t blame me,” he said, “I did my best. I’m glad to see you in such good spirits, Mr. Hallowell. I feared, by the Despatch—”
“Lies, lies,” interrupted Hallowell curtly. “You know Judge Gaylor?”
As he shook hands, Winthrop answered that the Judge and he were old friends; that they knew each other well.
“Know each other so well!” returned the Judge, “that we ought to be old enemies.”
The younger man nodded appreciatively. “That’s true!” he laughed, “only I didn’t think you’d admit it.”
With light sarcasm Mr. Hallowell inquired whether Winthrop was with them in his official capacity.
“Oh, don’t suggest that!” begged Winthrop; “you’ll be having me indicted next. No sir, I am here without any excuse whatsoever. I am just interfering as a friend of this young lady.”
“Good,” commented Hallowell. “I’d be sorry to have my niece array counsel against me—especially such distinguished counsel. Sit down, Helen.”
Miss Coates balanced herself on the edge of a chair and spoke in cool, business-like tones, “Mr. Hallowell,” she began, “I came.”