“He’s Italian,” said Drew. “Smart man. Knows his business. Square, too. A good judge. Lots of fun, too, if he wants to be.”
At this moment two names were called. Two large men, respectably dressed, walked up the aisle to take their places at the high, narrow table just before the judge’s stand. Two officers stepped up beside them.
“Confidence men,” whispered Drew. “We all know them. Haven’t got a thing on them, though, I’ll bet. Just picked them up on suspicion. They get thousands every year from people who are looking for a chance to make easy money. They—
“See! I told you. The judge is letting them go. It’s not what you know that counts in court. It’s what you can prove.”
Once more the stage was set. An attractive young woman, carefully and tastefully dressed, a young man at her side, a middle-aged man of stocky build carrying a package, a young lady of the shop-girl type at his side; these four stood before the judge.
“Young lady,” said the judge, leaning forward and adjusting his glasses as he spoke to the well dressed one, “you are charged with the theft of one dress, taken from the store of Dobbs, Hobson & Dobbs; value $14.00. Guilty, or not guilty?”
“Guilty,” the girl murmured with downcast eyes.
“It is my duty,” the judge leaned forward in his chair, “to warn you that if you plead guilty I may fine you from one dollar to one hundred dollars, or send you to jail for from one day to one year. Knowing this, do you still wish to plead guilty?” His tone was impressive.
The girl hesitated. A short, gray-haired man stepped up and whispered in her ear.
“Her lawyer,” explained Drew.