Her passionate eyes sought his, her body swayed towards him. Deane looked downwards upon his blotter. In the outer office he could hear the clicking of typewriters, the subdued murmur of voices. Through the half-opened window came floating in the everlasting chorus,--the falling footsteps upon the pavement, the jingling of hansom bells, the far-off roar of the heavier traffic. All these things seemed to him curiously unreal. He was conscious only of the intensity of the moment, the pleading of her eyes, the warm breath upon his cheeks. He heard the rustling of her skirts. He felt that she was rising from her chair. Then he braced himself for his effort. "My dear young lady," he said,--"if you really want to compromise--for a moderate amount--I will send for my lawyer. We cannot arrange this thing by ourselves." She rose to her feet, but for a moment she was speechless. When he looked at her face, he found it almost unrecognizable. She dropped her veil quickly, but from behind it the flash of her eyes was in itself a threat. "I am sorry," he said lamely. "I hope you understand." She turned to the door, and passed out without a word. CHAPTER XX THROUGH THE MILL Deane stood at last on the other side of those long, dragging months of unspeakable weariness. Day after day, in the close atmosphere of the Courts, week after week of what seemed to him unnecessary repetitions and delays,--so the great machine of the law moved on its slow and stately way, and the case of Sinclair _v._ The Incorporated Gold-Mines Association crept on toward the end. One thing at least Deane had gained. His examination and cross-examination--and he was in the witness box altogether for nearly two days--failed to reveal a single weak joint in the armor of his truthfulness. His story was consistent and honorable throughout. He was able to prove the payment to Sinclair, to prove Sinclair's suggestion that he should have a try at the mine. At the end of the case, one thing remained certain, and that was that morally speaking the mine was Deane's when he had sold it to the Corporation. Yet behind it all there were those title-deeds, with which Sinclair had never parted, and which now formed the backbone of this present suit. The more sensational part of the case, too, concerning which there had been endless rumors, collapsed immediately. "Is it not true that Sinclair paid you a visit at your offices a few days before his murder?" counsel asked. "Certainly!" Deane answered. "Will you tell us what transpired at that interview?" "Well, it scarcely amounted to an interview," Deane answered composedly. "The man was drunk, and I found him offensive. He brandished the document at me on which the present case is founded, and I suspected him of an attempt at blackmail. I had him thrown out." "Yet a few days afterwards you commissioned Rowan--the man who murdered Sinclair--to obtain that document from him," counsel said, amidst some sensation.