This incident deepened Marriott's foreboding. A few moments later, as the bailiff was opening court, the man entered with a familiar and accustomed air, and Bentley got a chair and made him comfortable so that he might enjoy the trial.
"Who's that man?" Marriott whispered to Archie.
"That? That's old Jimmy Ball, the deputy warden at the pen."
"What do you suppose--"
"He's here to knock, that's what. He's here to rap ag'in me, the old--"
Archie applied his ugly epithet with an expression of intensest hatred, and glared at Ball. Now and then Archie repeated the epithet under his breath, trying each time to strengthen it with some new oath.
But Marriott just then had no time to learn the significance of this strange presence. Eades was calling a witness.
"Detective Quinn!"
Quinn came in after the usual delay, walking with the policeman's swagger even after years on the detective force. He came in with his heavy shoulders set well back, and his head held high, but his eyes had the fixed stare of self-consciousness. Taking the oath, he ascended the witness-stand, leaned over, placed his hat against the side of the chair, and then, crossing one fat thigh over the other, held it in position with his hand. On his finger flashed a diamond, another diamond sparkled on his shirt-front.
"Pipe the rocks!" whispered Archie. "Know where he got 'em? Jane nicked a sucker and Quinn made her give 'em to him for not rapping."