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 *ileges?" inquired Handy, who was adhering to practical things.

The governor's face put on its legal mask again, and he replied:

"Well, the question is unsettled—"

"Who presides in the criminal court this winter?" inquired Handy, "any of our fellows?" Handy's whole philosophy of life was pull. The governor resumed, without answering:

"The question has never been decided. Mr. Chief Justice Marshall, upon the trial of Aaron Burr, ruled, if I remember, that a subpœna duces tecum might be issued to the president for a letter addressed to him, leaving the question of the production of the letter—"

"Oh, say, John," broke in Handy, "Burr's dead, isn't he? And he wasn't a good fellow, anyway, or he'd never got in that far. Go on with your legalities—I myself do not propose to go to jail for contempt for refusing to testify."

"You?"

"Yes, me."

"What have you to do with it?"

"Oh, nothing much," said Handy, "only I hap