The Tocsin was part of the Judge’s restitution.

“The controlling interest in the paper, together with the other property I have listed,” Joe had said, studying his memoranda under the lamp in Roger’s old studio, while Martin Pike listened with his head in his hands, “make up what Miss Tabor is willing to accept.  As I estimate it, their total value is between a third and a half of that of the stock which belonged to her.”

“But this boy—­this Flitcroft,” said Pike, feebly; “he might—­”

“He will do nothing,” interrupted Joe.  “The case is `settled out of court,’ and even if he were disposed to harass you, he could hardly hope to succeed, since Miss Tabor declines either to sue or to prosecute.”

The Judge winced at the last word.  “Yes—­yes, I know; but he might—­he might—­tell.”

“I think Miss Tabor’s influence will prevent.  If it should not—­well, you’re not in a desperate case by any means; you’re involved, but far from stripped; in time you may be as sound as ever.  And if Norbert tells, there’s nothing for you to do but to live it down.”  A faint smile played upon Joe’s lips as he lifted his head and looked at the other.  “It can be done, I think.”

It was then that Ariel, complaining of the warmth of the evening, thought it possible that Joe might find her fan upon the porch, and as he departed, whispered hurriedly:  “Judge Pike, I’m not technically in control of the Tocsin, but haven’t I the right to control its policy?”

“I understand,” he muttered.  “You mean about Louden—­about this trial—­”

“That is why I have taken the paper.”

“You want all that changed, you mean?”

She nodded decisively.  “From this instant. 
Before morning.”

“Oh, well, I’ll go down there and give the word.”  He rubbed his eyes wearily with big thumbs.  “I’m through fighting.  I’m done.  Besides, what’s the use?  There’s nothing more to fight.”

“Now, Judge,” Joe said, as he came in briskly, “we’ll go over the list of that unencumbered property, if you will.”

This unencumbered property consisted of Beaver Beach and those other belongings of the Judge which he had not dared to mortgage.  Joe had somehow explained their nature to Ariel, and these with the Tocsin she had elected to accept in restitution.

“You told me once that I ought to look after my own property, and now I will.  Don’t you see?” she cried to Joe, eagerly.  “It’s my work!” She resolutely set aside every other proposition; and this was the quality of mercy which Martin Pike found that night.