Chapter 12
On this particular morning Judge Proth was at his window, while his servant Kate was busying herself about the room. You may be sure that the judge troubled little whether the bolide passed or did not pass above Whaston. No; without preoccupations of any kind, he allowed his eyes to wander over Constitution Square, of which his window afforded a complete and excellent view.
But what the judge deemed of such small interest had a certain importance in Kate’s eyes.
“So it’s in gold, sir,” Kate remarked, pausing close to her master.
“Apparently,” answered the judge.
“You don’t seem to be much affected, sir.”
“That’s true, Kate.”
“And yet, sir, if it’s in gold, it must be worth millions.”
“Millions and milliards, Kate. Yes, there are milliards trotting round above our heads.”
