Failing to beat down the guard of reticence in any face-to-face encounter, Forsyth had not been above bribing the turnkey to spy upon his prisoner; but if the man’s report was to be believed, the bribe was money wasted. Brant spent the time in reading, was calm and cheerful, and cared not to know what the newspapers were saying about him. A model prisoner in every respect, and a man whom he (the turnkey) would be sorry to see hanged. So ran the purchased report, and to all outward appearances the morning of the third day of his confinement found the prisoner in the same equable frame of mind. But if he fancied he had fortified the gate of silence until it was proof against the batterings of friendship, he had left unguarded a postern opening upon the innermost citadel of whatsoever resolution he was defending. By this postern he was presently to be assaulted, as was apparent when the jailer unlocked the cell door to admit Judge Langford. None the less, he welcomed his visitor heartily, and with becoming warmth. “Good morning, Judge Langford. This is kind of you. I hardly expected to see you here,” he said, doing the honours of his cramped quarters as best he might. The judge stood his cane in a corner and sat down on the edge of the cot. “That doesn’t speak well for your good opinion of me,” he rejoined genially. “At our last meeting--in your office, if you remember--I gave you to understand that you had placed me under obligations which I should gladly repay. Since then you have added somewhat to the score, and I am here to do what I may to square the account.” Brant bowed. If he suspected what was coming he made no sign, choosing rather to let the judge find his own way to what was toward. “After the examination, Saturday, I met your friend Forsyth--and, by the way, he is a good friend of yours, too. He tells me that you refuse to employ counsel, and that without giving any reason. Now we can not allow that, you know, and to make it impossible for you to persist, I have this morning taken out a license to practice in the Colorado courts for the express purpose of defending you.” “Of what?” exclaimed the prisoner. It was a hopeful sign that the judge had beaten down the guard of self-possession that Brant sprang up and began to tramp, three steps and a turn. “Of defending you, I said. And I am here now to beg you to speak freely to me as client to advocate.” “But, my dear sir! it is impossible--utterly impossible! You don’t know what you have undertaken.” “I think I do; and I am ready and willing to do my best for you. But to that end you must be candid with me.” “I say you do not know,” Brant insisted, going back of the admonition and speaking to the assertion. “Let me ask you one question, Judge Langford: Have you remembered that, as my counsel, you would be obliged to cross-examine your own son?” “I have.”