few delayed, and the Royle girl was among them, Calvin noticed. He had not spoken to her nor approached her; nor did he refer to her, until Heminway commented, when they were downstairs, "Did you see the Royle girl?"
"Yes," admitted Calvin.
"She spent the day in court," Heminway informed Ellison. "Scouting him, I suppose," Heminway suggsted, nodding toward Calvin, who remained noncommittal; but his thoughts resorted to the court-room and he wondered how long she would wait. He wondered, if she waited, why did she?
Finally he forsook his desk and went upstairs, where he came upon a few men loitering in the hall outside the court-room in which Augarian had been tried. The doors were closed but not locked, and when he pushed in, Calvin found the room lighted but deserted, except for one person—a girl, that Royle girl.
She was standing before a window which was partly opened and in which were patterned lights of the city; for the November dusk was fallen with the pellucid blackness of night.
After a glance at her, Calvin stepped to a table, upon which he had left a few unimportant papers, and preoccupied himself with them while he considered the warm pounding of his pulse and opposed the power which would draw him to the corner where the Royle girl stood.
Finally, he looked up and saw her watching him; and he put down his papers and approached her.
"Why are you waiting?" he asked tersely.
"Why, for the verdict," she said, her eyes lifted to his with the frank directness which disconcerted him.
"There may be no verdict to-night."
"Oh, I didn't mean to wait all night," she said quickly, smiling. "I thought I'd stick about maybe till six o'clock.
