Part 25 (2/2)

Alicia looked up eagerly. ”Is she out there now?” she cried.

”What right has she to come here? What's her object?” went on the banker irritatedly.

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

”The same old thing,” he replied. ”She wants me to take her case.”

The banker frowned.

”Didn't you tell her it was impossible?”

”That makes no difference,” laughed the judge. ”She comes just the same.

I've sent her away a dozen times. What am I to do if she insists on coming? We can't have her arrested. She doesn't break the furniture or beat the office boy. She simply sits and waits.”

”Have you told her that I object to her coming here?” demanded the banker haughtily.

”I have,” replied the judge calmly, ”but she has overruled your objection.” With a covert smile he added, ”You know we can't use force.”

Mr. Jeffries shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

”You can certainly use moral force,” he said.

”What do you mean by moral force?” demanded the lawyer.

Mr. Jeffries threw up his hands as if utterly disgusted with the whole business. Almost angrily he answered:

”Moral force is moral force. I mean persuasion, of course. Good G.o.d, why can't people understand these things as I do?”

The judge said nothing, but turned to examine some papers on his desk.

He hardly liked the inference that he could not see things as plainly as other people, but what was the use of getting irritated? He couldn't afford to quarrel with one of his best clients.

Alicia looked at her husband anxiously. Laying her hand on his arm, she said soothingly:

”Perhaps if I were to see her----”

Mr. Jeffries turned angrily.

”How can you think of such a thing? I can't permit my wife to come in contact with a woman of that character.”

Judge Brewster, who was listening in spite of the fact that he was seemingly engrossed in his papers, pursed his lips.

”Oh, come,” he said with a forced laugh, ”she's not as bad as all that!”

”I'm sure she isn't,” said Alicia emphatically. ”She must be amenable to reason.”

The banker's wife was not altogether bad. Excessive vanity and ambition had steeled her heart and stifled impulses that were naturally good, but otherwise she was not wholly devoid of feeling. She was really sorry for this poor little woman who was fighting so bravely to save her husband.

No doubt she had inveigled Howard into marrying her, but she--Alicia--had no right to sit in judgment on her for that. If the girl had been ambitious to marry above her, in what way was she more guilty than she herself had been in marrying a man she did not love, simply for his wealth and social position? Besides, Alicia was herself sorely troubled. Her conscience told her that a word from her might set the whole matter right. She might be able to prove that Underwood committed suicide. She knew she was a coward and worse than a coward because she dare not speak that word. The more she saw her husband's anger the less courage she had to do it. In any case, she argued to herself, Howard had confessed. If he shot Underwood there was no suicide, so why should she incriminate herself needlessly? But there was no reason why she should not show some sympathy for the poor girl who, after all, was only doing what any good wife should do. Aloud she repeated:

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