"It ought to be," responds the clerk, "but sometimes it isn't. I don't even know that the woman has skipped her bail."
Appleboy begins to see the force of the clerk's argument.
"I never imagined that a gentleman would be tossed about from pillar to post, as I have been since I lost that teapot. What is it you say I must do; get an order from the mayor?"
"No, no,—the judge," answers the clerk.
"How shall I get it?" inquires Appleboy rather huffily.
"Oh, ask the assistant district attorney; he will probably get it for you."
"Thank you," says Appleboy stiffly, and marches out. This time he takes the subway to Canal Street, reaching the Criminal Courts building a few moments after nine. Much to his surprise Mr. Smith is already down at his office hard at work.
"Ah, Mr. Appleboy, good-morning to you," he exclaims.
"How are you, Mr. Smith?" responds Appleboy. "I have come after that confounded teapot."
"Oh, the one your cook stole. I remember it well. Where is it?"