Luke shook his head.

“No, I don’t imagine there is anything can be done.  They’ve caught me at last.  That’s the end of it, I suppose.”

He got up stiffly and started walking up and down the little room.

“In a way I’m glad it’s over,” said he.  “I never got any peace, always thinking they were after me—­afraid to speak to anyone.  They were bound to get me in the end—­Yes, I’m glad it’s over.”

Then the Doctor talked to Luke for more than half an hour, trying to cheer him up; while I sat around wondering what I ought to say and wishing I could do something.

At last the Doctor said he wanted to see Bob; and we knocked upon the door and were let out by the policeman.

“Bob,” said the Doctor to the big bulldog in the passage, “come out with me into the porch.  I want to ask you something.”

“How is he, Doctor?” asked Bob as we walked down the corridor into the Court-house porch.

“Oh, Luke’s all right.  Very miserable of course, but he’s all right.  Now tell me, Bob:  you saw this business happen, didn’t you?  You were there when the man was killed, eh?”

“I was, Doctor,” said Bob, “and I tell you—­”

“All right,” the Doctor interrupted, “that’s all I want to know for the present.  There isn’t time to tell me more now.  The trial is just going to begin.  There are the judge and the lawyers coming up the steps.  Now listen, Bob:  I want you to stay with me when I go into the court-room.  And whatever I tell you to do, do it.  Do you understand?  Don’t make any scenes.  Don’t bite anybody, no matter what they may say about Luke.  Just behave perfectly quietly and answer any question I may ask you—­truthfully.  Do you understand?”

“Very well.  But do you think you will be able to get him off, Doctor?” asked Bob.  “He’s a good man, Doctor.  He really is.  There never was a better.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see, Bob.  It’s a new thing I’m going to try.  I’m not sure the judge will allow it.  But—­well, we’ll see.  It’s time to go into the court-room now.  Don’t forget what I told you.  Remember:  for Heaven’s sake don’t start biting any one or you’ll get us all put out and spoil everything.”

THE FIFTH CHAPTER

MENDOZA

Inside the court-room everything was very solemn and wonderful.  It was a high, big room.  Raised above the floor, against the wall was the judge’s desk; and here the judge was already sitting—­an old, handsome man in a marvelous big wig of gray hair and a gown of black.  Below him was another wide, long desk at which lawyers in white wigs sat.  The whole thing reminded me of a mixture between a church and a school.

“Those twelve men at the side,” whispered the Doctor—­“those in pews like a choir, they are what is called the jury.  It is they who decide whether Luke is guilty—­whether he did it or not.”