His motor-car was waiting for him at the door. He climbed into it with a judicial deliberation and gave his order to the chauffeur. The car started noiselessly. By proceeding with an even speed that avoided blind dashes into the back-waters of the traffic-stream, it made better time than its more impetuous peers and, without jolt or pause, bore its occupant quickly to the building in which the firm of Stein, Falconridge, Falconridge & Perry had their offices. As Judge Stein passed through the outer room of the suite, he spoke to the girl who was seated at the firm’s telephone switchboard: "Good-afternoon, Miss Weston." The girl’s neurasthenic face lighted with pleasure: Marcus Stein was liked and respected by his office-force. "Good-afternoon, Judge Stein," she said. "I think," said the Judge, "that you might see if you can get Mr. Hallett on his private wire, and connect him with my telephone. Will you, please?" Miss Weston always felt that the Judge conferred a favor when he asked one. Consequently, she made a practice of giving his calls precedence over those of anybody else connected with the firm. "Right away," she said. "And if he’s left his office, shall I try his house or his club?" "Both, please, Miss Weston. But I have an idea that he will be at his office." The Judge passed on to his own handsome room overlooking the turmoil of lower Broadway. He had scarcely reached his desk, and was just bending to smell of the two Abel Chatney roses that stood in a vase there, when the soft bell of his telephone tinkled. "Stein?" asked Hallett’s voice through the black receiver that the Judge placed to his ear. "Yes. This is Mr. Hallett?" "Yes." "I was about to telephone you, and I have just been to see our young friend." "Well—well?" "It is no use, Mr. Hallett." Hallett’s voice was incredulous: "The fool won’t give up?" "Not yet." "How much does he want?" "Nothing." "Well, but didn’t you throw the fear of God into him?" "We can’t purchase and we can’t coerce—at least not by mere threats." "Then, we’ve got to frighten him by something else, Stein. How’d he get those things that he’s got?" "He wouldn’t say. I scarcely expected that he would." "Did you put on the political screws?" "I put on all, as far as was wise. He is a clever young man, and he knows we can’t hurt him so long as he has certain things in his possession." The situation apparently passed Hallett’s comprehension: it was outside of his experience. "But what does he want? He must want something." "I’m afraid not," the Judge sighed. "Hell! Of course, he must. Everybody does." "If he does, I couldn’t find it out." "Well, then," asked Hallett, "what’s he goin’ to do?" "Nothing—for a month." "You don’t think he’ll keep his word?" "I’m sure of it." "Wait a minute," said Hallett. The Judge waited fifteen minutes. At the end of that time, Hallett’s voice, regretful, but firm, sounded again in the telephone: