November fifth, 1892." It was still two hours of train time when he locked up and limped off toward the station, but--it was well to be there early.
Of course he met Judge Halloran on the street--he always did--and of course the judge asked when "Bob" was coming home.

The judge always did that, too.

Old Tom had lied diligently to the judge every day for a month now, for he had no intention of sharing this day of days with a tiresome old pest, and now he again made an evasive answer.
"Mendacity is at once the lowest and the commonest form of deceit," the judge indignantly announced.

"You know perfectly well when she's coming, damn you!" "Honest, I don't--not exactly." But the judge was unconvinced.

"You've been as mysterious as a bootlegger for the last week, but I could always read you like a book, Tom Parker.