George's little ruse, however, did not have the desired effect. Before the fight had effectively gotten under way, Marc and Toffee were rushed off to a police car that had screamed onto the scene with depressing promptness.
Stepping into the car, Toffee nodded toward the field of battle. "George is still helping," she observed bitterly.
"I'd like to help him," Marc replied dully. "I'd like to help him right through the gates of Hell."
Justice Harvey was a bear with a gavel, and he was proud because of it. With only the most delicate twist of the wrist, he could produce a resounding smack that rivaled even the awesome clatter of heavenly thunder. When the good Justice laid gavel to stand, men, women, children and morons sat up and silently searched their souls. Promptly at eleven o'clock, A.M., the Justice displayed his talent with an even greater finesse than was common. The crowded courtroom became silent, and all eyes turned hopefully to the bench.
Most of those in attendance, being either complainants or voluntary witnesses, were present in the interests in seeing a terrible justice done as speedily as possible. Many a face was alight with the fanatical gleam of vengeance.
The Justice cast a hawk-like eye toward a nearby official. "Let the crim ... the prisoner ... be brought before the bar," he proclaimed.
The official hurried importantly to a distant door and made quite a show of throwing it open. Marc, in the company of an iron-faced guard, was rudely revealed to the court, looking rather like a modest maiden lady who had been surprised in her bath. He gazed on the courtroom with an expression of embarrassment and fearful expectancy. Then he shuddered as his gaze was returned coldly by an assemblage that included the faces of such hostile personages as the bank president, the owner of the ravaged diner, the counter boy and the three waitresses. Also, among many others, there was a sprinkling of bank clerks and policemen whose features seemed not altogether unfamiliar. Marc glanced studiously at the floor as, with lagging step, he followed the official to a position of frightening prominence before the bench. A moment later, he was joined by Toffee, in the custody of a grim-looking matron.
Toffee nudged Marc. "I'm your accomplice," she said pridefully. "They say you used me for a lure."
But Marc didn't respond; he was far too fascinated by the disgusting sight of the Justice, rattling through a noisy throat-clearing operation. When it was over, the formidable servant of the public peered down at him maliciously.