"At Police Headquarters," responds Appleboy, "and they want me to get an order from some judge or something before they will give it up to me."

"That's easily managed," responds the assistant, "but you have to get a waiver from this office of any claim that we may have upon the teapot as evidence. There is a regular printed blank. I think, inasmuch as Jones was actually going to try the case when Maria skipped her bail, that he had better fill it out. After you get it, come back here and I'll make the application for you."

Appleboy begins to feel better. Here is some one that knows his business. He lights a cigar and descends to the next floor, where he finds his old friend Jones. Jones is quite ready to give the desired waiver, and selects one from a pigeon-hole in his desk. He fills it out to read as follows:

New York, October 7, 1907.
District Attorney's Office,
County of New York.

The People of the State of }
New York on the complaint of }
Silas Appleboy }
against } For Grand Larceny
in the Second Degree
Maria Holohan. }

This office has no further use for the property taken from the defendant in this case, and now in the possession of the property clerk of the police department. No objection is therefore made by me to its delivery to any person who proves to your satisfaction his right to the possession of the same,—one silver teapot.

A. BIRD,
District Attorney.
Per William Jones, D.A.D.A.

To the Property Clerk of the Police Department, Borough of Manhattan, City of New York.

The People of the State of }
New York on the complaint of }
Silas Appleboy }
against } For Grand Larceny
in the Second Degree
Maria Holohan. }

"Now we'll go down and see if the judge will give us an order," says Jones.

"Why, is there any doubt about it?" inquires Appleboy, fearful that perhaps after all he is going to lose his teapot.

"It all depends on circumstances," answers Jones. "Some of the judges are perfectly willing to give orders while others are not. You see, the trouble in your case is that the woman has never been tried, so that the question of whether or not she stole your teapot has really not been decided at all."

"The wicked flee—!" murmurs Appleboy in his most approved Friday evening manner.

They take the elevator down to the second floor, and make their way to that part of the Sessions upon whose calendar Maria's case appeared at the time she forfeited her bail. A trial is going on, and a pompous little lawyer is cross-examining a stout lady who weeps and laughs hysterically by turns. As the lawyer pauses for breath Mr. Jones arises and addresses the court.