She glanced at him fleetly as he entered, but
said nothing. Robbed of the pretensions of pride, stripped of feminine
subterfuge, she was appalling. He involuntarily recalled the Essie who
had swept him into a riot of emotion--a vivid and palpitating creature
radiating the exuberance of careless health and youth. She could not, he
calculated, be beyond thirty-seven now. He abruptly ceased his
speculation, turned from her, with a feeling of impropriety. Stephen
Jannan said shortly:
"Al Schimpf will be here. It seemed to me he was the best man to retain.
It's obvious that I can't defend her. You will, of course, require
everything possible done." Essie Scofield shivered. "I don't want to go
into court," she articulated, "and answer all the dreadful questions."
There was a stir without, and a hugely fat man in a black cape fastened
with a silver chain and velvet collar entered. Al Schimpf's face was so
burdened with rolling chins that he disregarded the customary fashion of
whiskers, but a grizzled moustache lay above his well-formed lips, and
an imperial divided his heavy, aggressive chin. He was, evidently, fully
informed of the case before him; for, after saluting Jannan and Jasper
Penny, he, seated himself directly before Essie Scofield, fastening upon
her an unwavering, glacial gaze.
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