The farmer and his wife and Patty and Immy all stared at RoBards, and he felt as if he were staring at himself. The odd thing about it was that the inspiration had come to him while he was on his feet talking. He thought best on his feet talking. That was his native gift and his legal practice had developed it. While he had sat in the train and in the sleigh and cudgeled his wits, nothing happened. Yet all the while there was indeed a client of his anxious about a remote investment; he only remembered him when he began to talk. The gigantic swindle known as the Pine Barren speculation had sold to innocent dupes in the North thousands of acres of land that was worthless, and hundreds of thousands of acres that did not even exist. The result was pitiful hardship for hard-working, easy-believing immigrants and a bad name for legitimate Georgian transactions. The Albesons were more afraid of this expedition into the unknown than if they had been asked to join the vain expedition Mr. Grinnell, the merchant, had recently sponsored to search the Arctic Zone for Sir John Franklin and his lost crew. But RoBards forced his will upon theirs and after a day or two of bullying carried the two old babes to New York and across the ferry and put them on a New Jersey Railroad train. They would reach Washington in less than sixteen hours—and by turning down the backs of two seats, could stretch out and sleep while the train ran on. From Washington they could go alternately by stage and rail all the way. This was indeed the Age of Steam. There were thirteen thousand miles of railroad in operation! And now RoBards had exiled the two most dangerous witnesses—at appalling financial cost. But if it saved Immy from bankruptcy, it was an investment in destiny. RoBards had nothing more to do but wait, tell lies to those who asked where he had hidden his wife and daughter, and wonder what might be the outcome of all this conspiracy. In the meanwhile he was installed as Judge, and Patty was not there to see. Keith was in Columbia and much puzzled by the absence of his mother and sister, and his father’s restlessness. On one of RoBards’ visits to Tuliptree, Patty said with a dark look and a hesitant manner: “David, I’ve been thinking.” That word “David” made him lift his head with eagerness. She went on: “You remember how good Doctor Matson was when poor Papa died? How he helped us conceal the terrible truth? I was wondering—don’t you suppose if you asked him now—he always liked Immy, you know—and—if you appealed to him——” RoBards groaned aloud with horror. “Hush! in God’s name! Would you ask a judge to compound a felony? to connive at murder?” “Oh,” Patty sighed, “I forgot. You used to be a father, and now you are a judge.” The little laugh that rattled in her throat was the most bloodcurdling sound he had ever heard.