"Oh--the Judge!" he said, enlightened, and read on, chuckling.
He wheeled his chair around.

"Well, Mr.Thompson, what is it--fine or bail ?" he queried.
"I want to borrow a man," Steve began mildly.

Here he was interrupted.
The ante-room door opened.

One entered--no, floated in--faultlessly arrayed, with an air at once languid and gloomy.
"Wyatt!" said Atwood, cordially.

"Man! You're good for sore eyes! What fair wind blows you here ?" Wyatt sank into a chair.