The magistrate stared at him in astonishment. Mayor Henkle, rendered vaguely uneasy by the lawyer’s confident tone, fidgeted nervously in his seat. Chief Hodgins uttered a loud snort of contempt; never in all his experience had he heard such bosh.
“On the grounds that he has violated no law?” the magistrate repeated witheringly. “I don’t understand you, sir. It appears to the court that the prisoner has violated the law prohibiting the taking of photographs on the streets of Oldham without a license.”
“There is no such law, your honor,” squeaked the little attorney.
“What!” cried the magistrate fiercely. “You had better be careful, sir. If you attempt to trifle with the dignity of this court you will quickly find yourself committed for contempt. I don’t care if you come from New York or——”
“There is no such law,” the counsel for the defense repeated, his voice even more shrill than before. “If your honor will inspect the original copy of the ordinance requiring the licensing of cameras, you will realize the truth of my assertion.”
The judge frowned. “I think you had better explain, sir,” he said sharply. “Your statements are most extraordinary. They almost warrant a suspicion either that you are mentally unbalanced or that you have been imbibing too freely. With one breath you say there is no camera law, and with the next you ask me to inspect the original copy of the camera law. How can I inspect it if there isn’t any?”
“I beg your pardon,” said the lawyer, with a smile. “I did not say that there was no camera law. My contention is merely that there is no law which forbids the taking of photographs on the street of Oldham without a license.”
“Oh, indeed?” the magistrate sneered. “Then what does the law forbid—as you understand it?”
“It forbids the taking of photographs of the streets of Oldham,” the lawyer replied. “It’s wording is very clear.”
“Nonsense!” cried his honor peevishly. “It says on the streets, not of the streets. Somebody has been misleading you.”