"In that case," declared Babson, playing his trump card, "it will be my unpleasant duty to commit you for contempt." There was a bustle of excitement about the reporters' table. Here was a story! "Very well," answered Miss Beekman proudly. "Do as you see fit, and as your own duty and conscience demand." The judge could not conceal his annoyance. The last thing in the world that he wished to do was to send Miss Althea to jail. But having threatened her he must carry out his threat or forever lose face. "I will give the witness until tomorrow morning at half after ten o'clock to make up her mind what she will do," he announced after a hurried conference with O'Brien. "Adjourn court!" Miss Beekman did not go to bed at all that night. Until a late hour she conferred in the secrecy of her Fifth Avenue library with her gray-haired solicitor, who, in some mysterious way, merely over the telephone, managed to induce the newspapers to omit any reference to his client's contemptuous conduct in their morning editions. "There's no way out of it, my dear," he said finally as he took his leave--he was her father's cousin and very fond of her--"this judge has the power to send you to jail if he wants to--and dares to! It's an even chance whether he will dare to or not. It depends on whether he prefers to stand well with the McGurks or with the general public. Of course I respect your attitude, but really I think you are a little quixotic. Points of honor are too ephemeral to be debated in courts of justice. To do so would be to open the door to all kinds of abuses. Dishonest witnesses would constantly avail themselves of the opportunity to avoid giving evidence." "Dishonest witnesses would probably lie in the first place!" she quavered. "True! I quite overlooked that!" he smiled, gazing down at her in an avuncular manner. "But to-day the question isn't open. It is settled, whether we like it or not. No pledge of privacy, no oath of secrecy--can avail against demand in a court of justice. Even confessions obtained by fraud are admissible--though we might wish otherwise." Miss Beekman shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing you have said seems to me to alter the situation." "Very well," he replied. "I guess that settles it. Knowing you and the Beekman breed! There's one thing I must say," he added as he stood in the doorway after bidding her good night--"that old fellow Tutt has behaved pretty well, leaving you entirely alone this way. I always had an idea he was a sort of shyster. Most attorneys of that class would have been sitting on your doorstep all the evening trying to persuade you to stick to your resolution not to give their client away, and to do the square thing. But he's done nothing of the sort. Rather decent on the whole!" "Perhaps he recognizes a woman of honor when he sees one!" she retorted. "Honor!" he muttered as he closed the door. "What crimes are sometimes committed in thy name!"