Mr. Drew received considerable unpleasant attention from the defendant's counsel, but he came through pretty comfortably. He admitted that he “cleaned up more than half a million” on the deal with the insurance company, and that he was the husband of Mr. Stevens' sister. He always had been sorry for Mr. Hildebrand, and even now was without animus. Mr. Schoolcraft acknowledged buying and selling the younger Hildebrand's shares, but was positive that there had been no collusion with Mr. Stevens. The case began to drag. Sampson lost interest. He attended strictly and no doubt diligently to the evidence, but when the expert accountants began to testify he found himself considerably at sea. He was not good at figures. They made him restless. The rest of the jury appeared to be similarly afflicted. Politeness alone kept them from yawning. Afterwards it was revealed that only one of the twelve was good at figures of any sort: the automobile salesman. He was a perfect marvel at statistics. He could tell you how many miles it is from New York to Oswego without even calculating, and he knew to a fraction the difference in the upkeep of all the known brands of automobiles in America. He made Sampson tired. Despite the damaging testimony that seemed surely to be strangling her grandfather's chances for escape, Miss Hildebrand revealed no sign of despair, or defeat. She came in each morning as serene as a May evening, and she left the court-room in the afternoon with a mien as untroubled as when she entered it. . There was quite a little flutter in the jury box--and outside of it, for that matter--when, on the third morning, she appeared in a complete change of costume--a greyish, modish sort of thing, Sampson would have told you--very smart and trig and comforting to the masculine eye. Sampson who knew more than any of his companions about such things, remarked (to himself, of course)--that her furs were chinchilla. Chinchilla is nothing if not convincing. It struck him, as he took her in--(she was standing, straight and slim, conversing with that beardless cub of an assistant-assistant district attorney)--that she was, if such a thing were possible, even lovelier than she was in the other gown. No doubt Sampson failed in his sense of proportion. She was undeniably lovelier today than yesterday, and she would continue to go on being prettier from day to day, no matter what manner of gown she wore. It also occurred to him that the young assistant-assistant was singularly unprofessional, if not actually fresh, in dragging her into a conversation that must have been distasteful to her. He wondered how she could smile so agreeably and so enchantingly over the stupid things the fellow was saying.