a moment's doubt, but it had ever been an uncomfortable ability, it had
tortured foes and made friends anxious. No one had ever seen him show
feeling. If it was a mask, he had worn it with a curious consistency: it
had been with him as a child, at school, at college, and he had brought
it back again to the town where he was born. It had effectually
prevented his being popular, but it had made him--with his foppishness
and his originality--an object of perpetual interest. Few men had
ventured to cross swords with him. He left his fellow-citizens very much
alone. He was uniformly if distantly courteous, and he was respected in
his own profession for his uncommon powers and for an utter indifference
as to whether he had cases in court or not.

Coming from the judge's chambers after the trial he went to his office,
receiving as he passed congratulations more effusively offered than, as
people presently found, his manner warranted.

For he was again the formal, masked Charley Steele, looking calmly
through the interrogative eye-glass. By the time he reached his office,
greetings became more subdued. His prestige had increased immensely in
a few short hours, but he had no more friends than before. Old relations
were soon re-established. The town was proud of his ability as it had
always been, irritated by his manner as it had always been, more
prophetic of his future than it had ever been, and unconsciously grateful
for the fact that he had given them a sensation which would outlast the
summer.

All these things concerned him little. Once the business of the court-
room was over, a thought which had quietly lain in waiting behind the
strenuous occupations of his brain leaped forward to exclude all others.