“Moxlow has cut the office of late,” said Langham briefly.

“He’s happened on a good thing in the prosecuting attorney’s office, I suppose?  It’s a pity you didn’t strike out for that, Marsh; you’d have been of some use to your friends if you’d got the job.”

“Not necessarily,” said Langham.

“Well, when’s Moxlow going after me?” inquired Gilmore.

“I, haven’t heard him say.  He told me he had sufficient evidence for your indictment.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Gilmore placidly.

“I guess yours is a case for the next grand jury!”

“So Moxlow’s in earnest about wishing to make trouble for me?” said Gilmore, still placidly.

“Oh, he’s in earnest, all right.”  Langham shrugged his shoulders petulantly.  “He’ll go after you, and perhaps by the time he’s done with you you’ll wish you’d taken my advice and made yourself scarce!”

“I’m no quitter!” rejoined Gilmore, chewing thoughtfully at the end of his cigar.

“By all means stay in Mount Hope if you think it’s worth your while,” said Langham indifferently.

“Can you give me some definite idea as to when the fun begins?”

“No, but it will be soon enough, Andy.  He wants the support of the best element.  He can’t afford to offend it.”

“And he knows you are my lawyer?” asked Gilmore still thoughtfully.

“Of course.”

“Ain’t that going to cut any figure with him?”

“Certainly not.”

“Is that so, Marsh?” He crossed his legs and nursed an ankle with both hands.  “Well, somebody ought to lose Moxlow,—­take him out and forget to find him again.  He’s much too good for this world; it ain’t natural.  He’s about the only man of his age in Mount Hope who ain’t drifted into my rooms at one time or another.”  He paused and took the cigar from between his teeth.  “You call him off, Marsh, make him agree to let me alone; ain’t there such a thing as friendship in this profession of yours?”

Langham shook his head, and again Gilmore’s black brows met in a frown.  He made a contemptuous gesture.

“You’re a hell of a lawyer!” he sneered.

“Be careful what you say to me!” cried Langham, suddenly giving way to the feeling of rage that until now he had held in check.

“Oh, I’m careful enough.  I guess if you stop to think a minute you’ll understand you got to take what I choose to say as I choose to say it!”

Langham sprang to his feet shaking with anger.

“No, by—­” he began hoarsely.

“Sit down,” said Gilmore coldly.  “You can’t afford to row with me; anyhow, I ain’t going to row with you.  I’ll tell you what I think of you and what I expect of you, so sit down!”

There was a long pause.  Gilmore gazed out the window.  He seemed to watch the hurrying snowflakes with no interest in Langham who was still standing by his desk, with one shaking hand resting on the back of his chair.  Presently the lawyer resumed his seat and Gilmore turned toward him.