Spargo looked down at the person indicated:  an elderly, large-faced, smooth-shaven man, a little inclined to stoutness, who, wigged and gowned, was slowly making his way to a corner seat just outside that charmed inner sanctum wherein only King’s Counsel are permitted to sit.  He dropped into this in a fashion which showed that he was one of those men who loved personal comfort; he bestowed his plump person at the most convenient angle and fitting a monocle in his right eye, glanced around him.  There were a few of his professional brethren in his vicinity; there were half a dozen solicitors and their clerks in conversation with one or other of them; there were court officials.  But the gentleman of the monocle swept all these with an indifferent look and cast his eyes upward until he caught sight of the two girls.  Thereupon he made a most gracious bow in their direction; his broad face beamed in a genial smile, and he waved a white hand.

“Do you know Mr. Elphick, Mr. Spargo?” enquired the younger Miss Aylmore.

“I rather think I’ve seen him, somewhere about the Temple,” answered Spargo.  “In fact, I’m sure I have.”

“His chambers are in Paper Buildings,” said Jessie.  “Sometimes he gives tea-parties in them.  He is Ronald’s guardian, and preceptor, and mentor, and all that, and I suppose he’s dropped into this court to hear how his pupil goes on.”

“Here is Ronald,” whispered Miss Aylmore.

“And here,” said her sister, “is his lordship, looking very cross.  Now, Mr. Spargo, you’re in for it.”

Spargo, to tell the truth, paid little attention to what went on beneath him.  The case which young Breton presently opened was a commercial one, involving certain rights and properties in a promissory note; it seemed to the journalist that Breton dealt with it very well, showing himself master of the financial details, and speaking with readiness and assurance.  He was much more interested in his companions, and especially in the younger one, and he was meditating on how he could improve his further acquaintance when he awoke to the fact that the defence, realizing that it stood no chance, had agreed to withdraw, and that Mr. Justice Borrow was already giving judgment in Ronald Breton’s favour.

In another minute he was walking out of the gallery in rear of the two sisters.

“Very good—­very good, indeed,” he said, absent-mindedly.  “I thought he put his facts very clearly and concisely.”

Downstairs, in the corridor, Ronald Breton was talking to Mr. Elphick.  He pointed a finger at Spargo as the latter came up with the girls:  Spargo gathered that Breton was speaking of the murder and of his, Spargo’s, connection with it.  And directly they approached, he spoke.

“This is Mr. Spargo, sub-editor of the Watchman.”  Breton said.  “Mr. Elphick—­Mr. Spargo.  I was just telling Mr. Elphick, Spargo, that you saw this poor man soon after he was found.”