Horace swiftly ransacked his brain for a way out of this dilemma. Evidently this letter bore upon his selection as her lawyer. He guessed rightly that it had been written at Tenney’s suggestion and by some one who had Mrs. Minster’s confidence. Obviously this some one was of the legal profession. That was his cue. “The name does sound familiar, on second thought,” he said. “I daresay it is, if I could only place it. You see, I had a number of offers to enter legal firms in New York, and in that way I saw a good many people for a few minutes, you know, and quite probably I’ve forgotten some of their names. They would remember me, of course, but I might confuse them one with another, don’t you see? Strange, I don’t fix the man you mean. Was he a middle-aged man, grayish hair, well dressed?” “Yes, that describes him.” She did not add that it would equally describe seven out of every ten other men called “judge” throughout the United States. “Now I place him,” said Horace triumphantly. “There was some talk of my going into his office as a junior partner. Mutual friends of ours proposed it, I remember. But it didn’t attract me. Curious that I should have forgotten his name. One’s memory plays such whimsical tricks, though.” “I didn’t know Judge Wendover was practising law,” said Mrs. Minster. “He never was much of a lawyer. He was county judge once down in Peekskill, about the time I was married, but he didn’t get reelected; and I thought he gave it all up when he went to New York.” “If it’s the man I mean,” put in Horace, groping his way despairingly, “there wasn’t much business in his office. That is why I didn’t go in, I daresay: it wouldn’t be worth my while unless he himself was devoted to the law, and carried on a big practice.” “I daresay it’s the same man,” remarked Mrs. Minster. “He probably _would_ have a kind of law office. They generally do.” “Well, may I ask,” Horace ventured after another pause, “in what connection he mentions my name?” “He recommends me to consult you about affairs--to--well, how shall I say it?--to make you my lawyer?” Eureka! The words were out, and the difficult passage about Judge What’s-his-name was left safely behind. Horace felt his brain swimming on a sea of exaltation, but he kept his face immobile, and bowed his head with gravity. “I am very young for so serious a responsibility, I’m afraid,” he said modestly. The widow reassured him with a smile. “There isn’t really much to do,” she answered. “And somebody would have to learn what there is; and you can do that as well as any one else, better than a stranger. The difficulty is,” she spoke more slowly, and Horace listened with all his ears: “you have a partner, I’m told.” The young man did not hesitate for an instant. “Only in a limited way,” he replied. “Mr. Tracy and I have combined on certain lines of work where two heads are better than one, but we each keep distinct our own private practice. It is much better.”