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court arose and the act instantly transmuted every person in the room. The witness stepped down, a pale and quivering girl; the jurymen filed awkwardly from their box and, instead of being a center of attention, they huddled in an aloof, reluctant cluster, pariahs approached by none but the bailiffs, who immediately herded them through the narrow portal to the jury room. The judge, a plethoric man in a black robe, retired heavily to his chambers.

The guards, who waited to escort the prisoner to the jail, stood with indulgent patience while Max Elmen whispered pompously to his client and clapped him loudly upon the back. A couple of reporters—a stolid, skeptical-appearing youth and a tall, perceptive girl, who spoke very rapidly—plied Calvin with questions improper for him to answer, as they very well knew. The girl flitted away and he followed her with his gaze, for she went to catechize the witness. Immediately Herman Elmen interposed, and Calvin caught only a glimpse of the Royle girl's profile. She was biting her lips, he saw; and now she was trying to smile.

"Where're we going to lunch?" Ellison asked of Calvin.

He would have liked to escape alone, but Ellison kept beside him on the way downstairs, and together they returned to the State's attorney's offices, where Heminway met them and asked, "How was the going this morning?"

"Not so good," Ellison replied. "Half an hour ago it looked like we had 'em in a hole, but Elmen put the Royle girl on the stand with half an hour to start her