"This is barbarous, prohibitive, unconstitutional," groaned Morehead. "Why, your Honour, it is a notorious fact that my client is a broken man, financially. Where can he get three-quarters of a million bail?" The Court's eyes sought the rear wall. He had often dined with Wilkinson, had been entertained at his house, but this made no difference to the Court. "I think, Colonel," he repeated, this time with a shade more emphasis, "that I must fix the bail suggested, if I am to fix any bail at all." Wilkinson, the present calamity fresh upon him, was trembling; and pressing against Colonel Morehead, whispered loudly in his ear: "Let it go at three-quarters of a million, Colonel; we can raise that easy enough." The Colonel turned white with rage. He looked at the Assistant District Attorney to see if that gentleman had heard the remark. Then, satisfied that he had not, he turned swiftly and ostentatiously upon his client, protesting: "Mr. Wilkinson, I am managing this case, not you. Be good enough to let me manage it alone." Before proceeding, he wiped his glasses and blinked his eyes. "Your Honour," he said with considerable pathos in his tone, "to fix this bail means that my client must be incarcerated in the Tombs. Who among all his friends will come forward to-day and furnish three-quarters of a million dollars bail? Who, indeed?" He shook his head. "Blessed are they that hath, for to them shall be given. But to him that hath not, shall be taken away, even that he hath. Does your Honour still persist?" "Colonel Morehead," said the Court, "I shall cheerfully hold this man without bail at all, if you still persist." Morehead bowed. "We shall try ..." and his voice rang with the wail of a funeral bell, "we shall try to get bail, your Honour." "You can't furnish it now?" asked the Court. "You might as well ask for the moon," returned Wilkinson's counsel, looking the picture of grim despair. The Court's eyelids never fluttered as he ordered: "Take the prisoner to the Tombs in default of bail." "I'll go with you, Wilkinson," declared Morehead, with a peculiar smile. As they crossed the Bridge of Sighs, they could hear the cries of the crowd below--a crowd frenzied both by the horror of the crime and the escape of Wilkinson. "Don't be frightened, Wilkinson, this is all right," said Morehead soothingly. "You're going to stay in the Tombs until I get you bail." "I can put it up in half an hour, you fool!" insisted Wilkinson. "But you won't," returned his counsel. "Not if I know it. If you put up bail in half an hour, they'll find out where it comes from; and if they find that out, they'll find out all the rest." Wilkinson dropped his eyes. "Perhaps you're right, Colonel," he conceded. "Do with me as you will." "Yes, you must do as I say, or I'll drop this case," warned the Colonel. "And while you're in here, you're not to talk--not a word to anyone--do you understand me?"