The cell in which Bob was confined was provided with a rough sleeping-bench, but though the youth lay down he did not slumber, but lay awake thinking over his troubles.
At last morning came, and at nine o’clock Bob was brought out into the little court-room attached to the station. Here sat a stern-faced judge who eyed him sharply, as the charge against him was made.
“What have you to say to this?” Bob was asked.
Bob, of course, put in a plea of not guilty. Then he was asked a number of questions, and he related his whole story.
“You look as if you were telling the truth, but the facts in the case don’t bear you out,” said the judge. “You had no right under any circumstances to enter Mr. Olney’s house.”
At that moment a man brushed forward. It was Mr. Starleigh.
“May it please your honor, may I ask why this young man was brought here?” he asked.
The judge happened to know the old photographer, and he related the case.
“He is not guilty, you may be sure of that,” said Mr. Starleigh. “I am positive he is perfectly honest.”
“You know him, then?”