Samuel lay down again; and now he had a chance to make another discovery. He had felt sharp stinging sensations which caused him to scratch himself frantically. Then suddenly he realized that he was lying upon a mattress infested with vermin.
The discovery sent him bounding to the middle of the floor. It set him wild with rage. Such a thing had never happened to him in his life before, for his home was a decent and clean one. This was the crowning infamy—that they should have taken him, helpless as he was, and shut him up in a filthy hole to be devoured by bedbugs and lice.
In the morning they brought him bread and coffee; and after a couple of hours' more waiting he was taken to court.
It was a big bare room with whitewashed walls. There were a few scattered spectators, a couple of policemen and several men writing at tables. Seated within an inclosure were a number of prisoners, dull and listless looking. One by one they stepped up before the railing and faced the judge; there would be a few muttered words and they would move on. Everything went as a matter of routine, which had been going that way for ages. The judge, who was elderly and gray haired, looked like a prosperous business man in a masquerade costume.
Samuel's turn came and he stood before the bar. His name was read, and the charge—vagrancy.
“Well?” said the judge mechanically. “What have you to say for yourself?”
Samuel caught his breath. “It's not my fault, sir,” he began.
“Your honor,” prompted the policeman who stood at his elbow.
“Your honor,” said Samuel, “I lost all my money. And I've been trying to find work, your honor.”
“Have you any friends in town?”