That same hour Hammer was laboring with his client in the jail, as he had labored fruitlessly before, in an endeavor to induce him to impart to him the thing that he had concealed at the coroner's inquest into Isom Chase's death. Hammer assured him that it would not pass beyond him in case that it had no value in establishing his innocence. "Mr. Hammer, sir," said Joe, with unbending dignity and firmness, "if the information you ask of me was mine to give, freely and honorably, I'd give it. You can see that. Maybe something will turn up between now and Monday that will make a change, but if not, you'll have to do the best you can for me the way it stands. Maybe I oughtn't expect you to go into the court and defend me, seeing that I can't help you any more than I'm doing. If you feel that you'd better drop out of the case, you're free to do it, without any hard feelings on my part, sir." Hammer had no intention of dropping the case, hopeless as he felt the defense to be. Even defeat would be glorious, and loss profitable, for his connection with the defense would sound his name from one end of the state to the other. "I wouldn't desert you in the hour of your need, Joe, for anything they could name," said Hammer, with significant suggestion. His manner, more than his words, carried the impression that they had named sums, recognizing in him an insuperable barrier to the state's case, but that he had put his tempters aside with high-born scorn. "Thank you," said Joe. "But if Missis Chase was mixed up in it any way, I want you to tell me, Joe," he pressed. Joe said nothing. He looked as stiff and hard as one of the iron hitching-posts in front of the court-house, thought Hammer, the side of his face turned to the lawyer, who measured it with quick eyes. "Was she, Joe?" whispered Hammer, leaning forward, his face close to the bars. "The coroner asked me that," replied Joe, harshly. This unyielding quality of his client was baffling to Hammer, who was of the opinion that a good fatherly kick might break the crust of his reserve. Hammer had guessed the answer according to his own thick reasoning, and not very pellucid morals. "Well, if you take the stand, Joe, they'll make you tell it then," Hammer warned him. "You'd better tell me in advance, so I can advise you how much to say." "I'll have to get on somehow without your advice, thank you sir, Mr. Hammer, when it comes to how much to say," said Joe. "There's not many lawyers--and I'll tell you that right now in a perfectly plain and friendly way--that'd go ahead with your case under the conditions," said Hammer. "But as I told you, I'll stick to you and see you through. I wash my hands of any blame for the case, Joe, if it don't turn out exactly the way you expect." Joe saw him leave without regret, for Hammer's insistence seemed to him inexcusably vulgar. All men could not be like him, reflected Joe, his hope leaping forward to Judge Maxwell, whom he must soon confront.