I smiled at the notion of it.
"Well, I'll own up to you this kind of got under my skin. That Galligan is a fine-looking fellow, if there ever was one, and he'll never be of a bit of use any more. Of course the case was plain sailing, and they ought to have had the verdict, but that lawyer of his handled it to the queen's taste, if I do say so. He made me feel real bad, by God,—as if it was my own son Ed who'd been battered up. Lord, I can't forget the look in that man Galligan's eyes. I hate to go through it again, and reverse it, but I guess I'll have to, now."
The Judge sat gazing at the flames playing over his gas log.
"Who was the lawyer?" I asked.
"A man by the name of Krebs," he replied. "Never heard of him before.
He's just moved to the city."
"This city?" I ejaculated.
The Judge glanced at me interestedly.
"This city, of course. What do you know about him?"
"Well," I answered, when I had recovered a little from the shock—for it was a distinct shock—"he lived in Elkington. He was the man who stirred up the trouble in the legislature about Bill 709."
The Judge slapped his knee.