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 Zenn and a dozen others openly designated as "gunmen" and "lieutenants of Baretta" whom Mr. Clarke had been questioning that day, without result. The lawyers who usually represented these men, said the newspaper, undoubtedly would appear at the opening of court to-morrow to free their clients in the usual manner on habeas corpus writs, which would be opposed by Mr. Clarke in person.

Thereupon, Joan's eyes sought the paragraph which related that Mr. Clarke had worked all day and expected to appear in court to-morrow, not only to oppose the writs for Zenn, but also in connection with the developments of the Ketlar case.

Upon awakening, Ket filled her mind; for there were sounds in Ket's apartment. His mother had come to dust and sweep in preparation for him; and Joan and Dads and Mrs. Folwell went together to the court, where women blocked the doors, where Max Elmen and his son, Herman, and Weigal, of the Echo, with musicians from the orchestra and several men whom Joan did not know, crowded the rail in the court-room. Ket had not been brought in; nor did she see Mr. Clarke. The judge's bench was empty, as also was the jury box.

Oliver was there, with the other reporters who had written of the case; photographers banged their blinding flashlights as at the start of the trial. Hoberg put himself, proprietarily, beside Joan Daisy, but Max Elmen cleared only two seats, one for her and one for Mrs. Folwell.

"Have the chair," urged Max, reassuring Joan with a soft clasp of his long fingers. "It is all but over. There is nothing for you to do but look."

She felt Dads' hand upon her shoulder, as she sat down; for Dads displaced Hoberg and remained behind her, patting her when she most noticeably trembled. The