The stillness that followed was broken only by the Judge's voice.
"What became of that letter?"
"I got it. Want to see it?"
"Yes."
Bud felt in his pockets as if looking for something, and then, with an expression as if he had suddenly remembered, remarked:
"No, I ain't got none. They stole my knife when they 'rested me." Then facing the courtroom, he added: "Somebody lend me a knife, and pass me my hat over there 'longside them sheriffs."
The court-crier took the hat from one of the deputies, and the clerk, in answer to a nod of assent from the Judge, passed Bud an ink-eraser with a steel blade in one end.
The audience now had the appearance of one watching a juggler perform a trick. Bud grasped the hat in one hand, turned back the brim, inserted the point of the knife between the hat lining and the hat itself and drew out a yellow envelope stained with dirt and perspiration.
"Here it is. I ain't opened it, and what's more, they didn't find it when they searched me;" and he looked again toward the deputies.
The Judge leaned forward in his seat and said: