In the broad daylight the judge was a stately figure, tall, stout, white-haired, with a high Roman nose and a mouth and chin like a Spartan’s. He always wore an old-fashioned, long frock coat, a high pointed collar and stiff black tie; in summer his waistcoat was white marseilles, with large buttons and a heavy watch-chain; he carried a gold-headed cane and he took snuff. He found Trench in his shirt sleeves, plodding over some papers, his face flushed and his jaw set, a trick he had in perplexity. The judge eyed him grimly. “Well,” he said, “what’s the price of cockerels to-day?” Trench, who had not noticed his entrance, rose and gave the old man a chair. “To-day I’m figuring out the price of men,” he replied; “every single investor in the Eaton Land Company has been notified--in one way or another--that only Aylett men are to go to the Democratic Convention.” The judge whistled softly. “It’s true,” said Trench, throwing back his head with a peculiar gesture of the right hand that was at once characteristic and striking. “I’m ashamed for you Democrats,” he added. The judge squared his massive shoulders and gripped his gold-headed cane. “You young black Republican agitator,” he retorted bitterly, “produce your evidence.” Trench brought his palm down sharply on his desk. “It’s here,” he said; “Aaron Todd has been threatened, but he did not put in his last savings and is standing firm; the rest are like frightened sheep. Because I pointed out this lever in my Cresset speech they seem to think it’s a fulfillment, and they’ve poured in on me to-day to beg me to get their investments out for them! Meanwhile the company has declared that no dividends will be paid until after election, neither will they refund. If I carry the cases into court against Eaton, he’ll take advantage of the bankruptcy law. The investors in the country are frightened to death, and they’d vote for Satan for governor if they thought it would insure their money. Yarnall’s an honest man, but there are fifty hand-bills in circulation accusing him of everything short of arson and murder. That’s your Democratic campaign.” “And your Republican one is to stir up the niggers,” thundered the judge. “Peter Mahan’s been out in the Bottoms speaking to ten thousand blacks! By the Lord Harry, sir, I wish they were all stuffed down his throat!” Whereat Caleb Trench laughed suddenly. “Judge,” he said, “if Peter Mahan could be elected, you’d have a clean straight administration.” “He can’t be, sir,” snapped the judge, “and I’m glad of it!” “You’ll be sorry,” Trench remarked calmly, “unless you nominate Yarnall.” “I’m for Aylett,” the judge said soberly. “I shall vote for Aylett in the convention; Yarnall will split the party. That’s what you want, you young cub!” Caleb smiled. “I’m interested to know how much money it will take to nominate Aylett,” he said; “you’re for Aylett, judge, but you’re not strong enough to defeat Yarnall.”