Meanwhile, as the days slipped rapidly away, the party at the Waldorf was not idle.  There were conferences, numerous and protracted, behind dosed doors, telegrams and cablegrams in cipher flashed hither and thither in multitudinous directions, while Mr. Sutherland seemed fairly ubiquitous.  Much of his time, however, was spent in the private parlors of the English party, with frequent journeys to the court-house to ascertain the status of the case.  From one of these trips he returned one evening jubilant.

“Well,” said he, settling himself comfortably, with a sigh of relief, “the first point in the case is decided in our favor.”

“That is a good omen,” Mr. Barton replied cheerfully; “but may I inquire to what you refer?”

“I have succeeded in getting the date for the hearing set for the next term of court, which opens early in December.”

“I am glad to hear it; a little time just now is of the utmost importance to our interests.  Did you have any difficulty in securing a postponement until the next term?”

“Whitney, of course, opposed it strongly.  He said his client wanted the matter settled at the earliest possible moment; but I told him that so long as Ralph Mainwaring persisted in butting against a stone wall, just so long a speedy settlement was out of the question; it was bound to be a hard fight, and would be carried over into the next term in any event.  Then I had a private interview with Judge Bingham, and, without giving particulars, told him that new developments had arisen, and, with a little time in which to procure certain evidence, we would have our opponents completely floored, — they would not even have an inch of room left to stand upon, — while under present conditions, Mainwaring, so long as he had a shilling, would, if beaten, move for a new trial, or appeal to a higher court, — anything to keep up the fight.  So he will grant us till December, which, I am inclined to think, will be ample time.”

“It looks now,” said Mr. Barton, producing a telegram, “as though we might succeed in securing that evidence much sooner than we have anticipated.  What do you think of that?” and he handed the despatch to Mr. Sutherland.

The face of the latter brightened as he glanced rapidly over the yellow sheet.

“The dickens!  McCabe has left the city!” he exclaimed.

Mr. Barton bowed.  “Which means,” he said in reply, “that he has evidently struck the scent; and when he once starts on the trail, it is only a question of time — and usually not any great length of time, either — before he runs his game to cover.”

“Well,” ejaculated Mr. Sutherland, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, “I, for one, want to be ‘in at the death’ on this, for it will simply be the finest piece of work, the grandest denouement, of any case that has ever come within my twenty years of legal experience!”

Mr. Barton smiled.  “My brother is evidently of the same opinion with yourself,” he said.  “I received a cablegram from him to-day, requesting me to inform him at once of the date set for the hearing, as he stated he would not, for a kingdom, fail of being present at the trial.”