There was a general shuffling and scraping of chairs. Those standing seated themselves so far as was possible. Judge Henderson alone stood for a time in front of the table of Justice Blackman. The afternoon was very warm, but he represented the full traditions of his profession, for he appeared in long black coat, white waistcoat, and folded collar, tied with a narrow white tie. In some way he had the appearance of always being freshly laundered. His fresh pink cheeks were smooth and clean, his hands were immaculate as his linen. One might have said that at one time in his life he had been a handsome man, a fine young man in his earlier days, and that he still was "well preserved." Not so much might have been said of old Hod Brooks, who had slumped into a seat close to Tarbush and his prisoner. That worthy wore an alpaca coat, a pair of trousers which shrieked of the Golden Eagle Clothing Store, no waistcoat at all, and it must be confessed, no collar at all, beyond a limp strip of wilted linen decorated by no cravat whatever. As he sat now Brooks suddenly cast a keen, curious gaze upon the face of the young defendant who sat at the left of the city marshal--a gaze which, passing at length, rested steadily, intently, on the face of Aurora Lane, who sat, icy pale, staring straight in front of her. Her left hand lay in that of Miss Julia Delafield. The eyes of the latter--whose face was flushed, as was usual with her in any time of mental emotion--remained fixed upon the man who was to prosecute this boy, whose life was linked so closely with her own. The great lawyer seemed not to see these women at all, and at first cast no glance whatever at the defendant. The whole thing was rather trivial for him; for although his fee really had been five hundred dollars--in form of a note from Ephraim Adamson secured by a certain mortgage on certain live stock--he knew well enough he honored Adamson and this court by appearing here in a mere Justice trial. "Order in the court!" said Blackman once more. "The case coming on for trial is City of Spring Valley on the complaint of Ephraim Adamson against Dewdonny Lane." At this bold declaration of what had been a half credited secret to Spring Valley, all Spring Valley now straightened and sat up, expectant. A sort of sigh, half a murmur of intense curiosity went over the audience. It was indeed a great day for Spring Valley. "Lane--Dewdonny Lane." So he _was_ the son of Aurora Lane--and had no family name for his own! Justice Blackman paused and looked inquiringly at the battered visage of old Eph Adamson. He coughed hesitatingly. "I understand this case is one of assault and battery. I believe, Judge Henderson, that you represent the plaintiff in this case?"