Something of the same feeling came over him now. Only this time he had found, not a dog, not a cat, but something more precious—a man.
“You—your Honor,” he stammered, scarcely knowing what he was saying, “if your Honor please, I’d like this man.”
“To what purpose?” The judge stared.
“To give him another chance.”
“Can you?” Once more the judge leaned far forward in his chair.
“Drew Lane is my friend. We live together. With his help I can.”
“Done!” said the judge.
“You heard what he said!” he exclaimed, turning to the astonished Newton Mills. “You promised to stop drinking. This young man will see that you do stop.”
Never in all his life had Johnny seen such a look of despair as came over the face of the old-time detective. He had made that promise a thousand times. He had never kept it. Now here was someone with the mighty arm of the law behind him, who said, “You must!”
He glanced wildly about the room, as if looking for means of escape. Then with a look of utter weariness he murmured: