guests, while in the background hovered Uncle Neb, glistening black, hugely important, and grinning widely. Fell was the last to enter the room, and as he did so old Judge Forester turned to him smilingly.
"Ah, here is an attorney in whom there is no guile! Jachin, come and settle a dispute. I maintain that the dignity of the law is not less now than in the old days; that it has merely accommodated itself to changing conditions, and that it is a profession for gentlemen now as always. Jules, state your argument!"
Jules Delagroux, a white-haired Creole lawyer of high standing, smiled a trifle sadly.
"My case," he said, "is that the old days are dead; that the law is no longer a profession, but a following for charlatans. In a word, that the law has been killed by the lawyers." He gestured finality and glanced at Fell.
"So?" Jachin Fell smiled in his shy fashion. "Gentlemen, I heartily agree with you both. I am an attorney, but I do not practise because I cannot accommodate myself to those very changing conditions of which Judge Forester speaks. To-day, the lawyer must
