"Hand me the letter."
The letter was passed up by the court-crier, every eye following it. His Honor examined the envelope, and, beckoning to Halliday, said:
"Is this your letter?"
Halliday stepped to the side of the Judge, fingered the letter closely, and said: "Looks like my writin'."
"Open it and see."
Halliday broke the seal with his thumb-nail, and took out half a sheet of note-paper closely written on one side, wrapped about a small picture-card.
"Yes, it's my letter;" and he glanced sheepishly around the room and hung his head, his face scarlet.
The Judge leaned back in his chair, raised his hand impressively, and said gravely:
"This case is adjourned until ten o'clock tomorrow."
Two days later I again met the Warden as he was entering the main door of the jail. He had been over to the Court-house, he said, helping the deputy along with a new "batch of moonshiners."