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 to state, that were he now present he would accept these words of Mr. Northcote in the spirit in which they are offered."

The judge left the bench and the court emptied rapidly. Mr. Whitcomb, who had remained most of the day in Northcote's vicinity, plucked him by the sleeve as he rose and gathered his papers.

"I know now what you mean by the genie," said he. "I shall send a wire to Tobin at the hospital. I should like to see his face when he gets it."

Northcote was too highly wrought to appreciate a word that was uttered by the solicitor. He could only smile and nod and wish him good night, all of which was done with incoherence and abruptness. As the young man passed out of the court, an elderly unfortunate, without any teeth, one-half of whose face had been destroyed by disease, crept from her hiding-place in a dark corner of the corridor. She grabbed the hem of Northcote's gown and carried it to her lips.

"Gawd bless yer, guv'ner," she mumbled, in a thick, wheezy whisper.

In the barristers' robing-room the entrance of Northcote created a stir. Jumbo, a bencher of Northcote's inn, and like all who are not afraid to present themselves without reserve, just as nature devised them, a man of immense popularity, hit the young advocate a blow on the shoulder.

"When can I stand you a bottle, dear boy? Fine work!"

The son of the Master of the Rolls came up.

"I say, Northcote," he said, "you don't re