appreciated; that the tide of prosperity was clearly setting his
way; that intelligent foresight, not chance, had determined him
when he selected Raleigh instead of Memphis. Thereafter he spoke
of Charley Norton only as "My client," and exalted him for his
breeding, wealth and position, refusing to admit that any man in
the county was held in quite the same esteem. All of which moved
Mahaffy to flashes of grim sarcasm.

The immediate result of Norton's communication had been to send
the judge up the street to the courthouse. He would show his
client that he could be punctual and painstaking. He should have
his abstract of title without delay; moreover, he had in mind a
scholarly effort entirely worthy of himself. The dull facts
should be illuminated with an occasional striking phrase. He
considered that it would doubtless be of interest to Mr. Norton,
in this connection, to know something, too, of mediaeval land
tenure, ancient Roman and modern English. He proposed artfully
to pander to his client's literary tastes--assuming that he had
such tastes. But above all, this abstract must be entirely
explanatory of himself, since its final purpose was to remove
whatever doubts his mere appearance might have bred in Mr.
Norton's mind.

"If my pocket could just be brought to stand the strain of new
clothes before the next sitting of court, I might reasonably hope
for a share of the pickings," thought the judge.

Entering the court-house, he found himself in a narrow hall. On
his right was the jury-room, and on his left the county clerk's
office, stuffy little holes, each lighted by a single window.