"
Andrews slipped into the chair beside Mr. Thorndike, and grinned
sympathetically.
"Sorry!" he whispered. "Should have warned you. We won't be long now,"
he added encouragingly. "As soon as this fellow finishes his argument,
the judge'll take up the sentences. Your man seems to have other
friends; Isaacs & Sons are here, and the typewriter firm who taught him;
but what _you_ say will help most. It won't be more than a couple of
hours now."
"A couple of hours!" Mr. Thorndike raged inwardly. A couple of hours in
this place where he had been publicly humiliated. He smiled, a thin,
shark-like smile. Those who made it their business to study his
expressions, on seeing it, would have fled. Young Andrews, not being
acquainted with the moods of the great man, added cheerfully: "By one
o'clock, anyway."
Mr. Thorndike began grimly to pull on his gloves. For all he cared now
young Spear could go hang. Andrews nudged his elbow.
"See that old lady in the front row?" he whispered. "That's Mrs. Spear.
What did I tell you; mothers are all alike. She's not taken her eyes
off you since court opened. She knows you're her one best bet.
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