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by that massive and ungainly form can never be filled. In this time, at least, his like will not be seen. A rare jewel has been resolved to its element; earth is the poorer by an English gentleman."
These words served to heighten Northcote's indignation against himself. The stab he had directed at the judge increased in infamy. Already it seemed as if he had paid an exorbitant price for his success. However, in the midst of his anguish and perplexity, he heard feet on his staircase. There came a knock to his door. It was the solicitor.
"Well, my boy," said Mr. Whitcomb, shaking his hand affectionately, "do you see you have killed the judge?"
"Yes," said Northcote, "but I saved the life of your client."
