There he sat in his cell that day, nevertheless, scheming and calculating and plotting for all the world as if he really had what he called “a hold” upon old Judge Danvers. If he expected to be sent for at once, however, he was very much mistaken.
Indeed, just as the Judge was about to start for home that night, a sharp, alert, wiry-looking little gentleman stepped into his office.
“Glad to see you, Mr. District Attorney,” said the lawyer. “What can I do for you?”
“I see you have put that fellow Montague in quod again. Want him for anything?”
“Witness, perhaps, for a few days. Why?”
“Oh! that’s all right. I won’t interfere till you’re through with him. Want him myself after that. Been looking for him this long time, only I didn’t know he was the man till to-day.”
“Bad case?”
“Rather, I should say. Forgery, swindling, pocket-picking, all sorts. I hardly know what’s on the list. Pretty much everything. Spoil him for a witness.”
“Hold on a bit, then,” said the Judge; “I’ll turn him right over to you.”
“All right,” replied the District Attorney. “I’m always glad to oblige a man like you. He’s a bad one. Good-day.”