"Silence there, on the bench!" bawled the clerk, whacking the desk.
"Say, Marie," whispered the woman to her nearest neighbor, "here's a boy been selling his master's harness and got pinched."
"But look at the sweet things coming in, will you! Ain't they swell, though?" whispered Marie, nodding a skinny feather toward the door.
Warburton glanced indifferently in the direction indicated, and received a shock. Two women—and both wore very heavy black veils. The smaller of the two inclined her body, and he was sure that her scrutiny was for him. He saw her say something into the ear of the companion, and repeat it to one of the court lawyers. The lawyer approached the desk, and in his turn whispered a few words into the judge's ear. The magistrate nodded. Warburton was conscious of a blush of shame. This was a nice position for any respectable woman to see him in!
"James Osborne!" called the clerk.
An officer beckoned to James, and he made his way to the prisoner's box. His honor looked him over coldly.
"Name?"
"James Osborne."
"Born here?"
"No."