"Do you mean to tell me, Gilchrist," he shouted so that all might hear, and advancing toward him, "that you've got the nerve to----" The Court rapped for order. "Clear the court-room!" he ordered; and turning to Beekman he added: "Counsellor, your client is beside himself. Take charge of him, or I'll have somebody do it for you." Morehead and Flomerfelt pulled Wilkinson down into his seat and held him there while a court officer stood over him threateningly. For a brief instant, only, Gilchrist let his cold, judicial gaze meet the hot belligerence of Peter V. Wilkinson; then he rose, gathered his robes about him, and passed on to his private chambers. Immediately four New York newspaper men boldly took possession of the bench and got three flashlights of Wilkinson struggling in the grasp of his attorneys. It took less than three-quarters of an hour to clear the court-room, but within that time New York was reading the headlines: "Ten years at hard labour in State's Prison for Peter V. Wilkinson, the multi-millionaire." As a piece of news it was unquestionably quite worth while; and in an incredibly short space of time London and Paris had it; that night Constantinople had it; the world had it and gloated over it. * * * * * "What are they going to do to you, father?" cried Leslie, when two uniformed officers laid hands upon Wilkinson. "That's what I'd like to know," he answered in alarm. "Take him to the Tombs, of course," spoke up one of the officers. "What else is there to do?" "No, I won't go back there! I refuse ..." cried Wilkinson, struggling. Morehead laid a detaining hand upon the officer's arm. "Wait a minute, officer," he said. "We'll file a notice of appeal inside of ten minutes. We're having it prepared now. We'll give bail--renew the bond...." Murgatroyd stepped forward and said, clipping his words off as he spoke: "I shall oppose this man's release on bail pending an appeal, unless his present bail is increased to double the amount." "A million dollars! What are you talking about!" exclaimed Morehead. "I'm talking about the new rule," returned the District Attorney; "and you know just as much about it as I do." And then smiling significantly he added: "I think Judge Gilchrist will do pretty much as I say. Maybe he'll ask for more because of your client's outburst when sentenced. If you want to see the Judge, come along with me." "And in the meantime, Chief, shall we lock him up?" queried an officer. "Wait a bit," put in Leech, courteously glancing at Leslie. "Suppose Mr. Wilkinson stays in my room until"--he looked at the Colonel now--"you can give bail this afternoon, can't you?" "Not if it's a million dollars. Murgatroyd, this man has got to rely upon his daughter's money," he pleaded. "We couldn't raise a million dollars in a month." "Yes we can," snapped Wilkinson, the cold sweat standing out on his forehead. "We can raise twice that in an hour."