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"Fight," said Peter, walking away.
He went back to his office, and sitting at his desk, wrote a formal
letter to the District Attorney, calling his attention to the case, and
asking information as to when it would be brought to trial. Then he
copied this, and mailed the original. Then he read the Code again. After
that he went over the New York reports, making notes. For a second time
the morning sun found Peter still at his desk. But this time his head
was not bowed upon his blotter, as if he were beaten or dead. His whole
figure was stiff with purpose, and his jaw was as rigid as a mastiff's.


CHAPTER XV.
THE FIGHT.

The only reply which Peter received to his letter to the
District-Attorney, was a mere formal reiteration of that officer's
verbal statement, that the case would be taken up in its due order,
after those which preceded it had been dealt with. Peter knew enough of
the numberless cases which never reach trial to understand that this
meant in truth, the laying aside of the case, till it was killed by the
statute of limitations.


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