A number of idle citizens, who had been gossiping and swapping stories on the store steps, rose at once and followed the prisoners, conducted by Newberry and Buzzell, up the narrow back stairs to the “courtroom.” Jeremiah Small had been sent to fetch the judge.

The automobilists were given chairs facing a table which served as a desk, and an anæmic-looking young man in horn-rimmed spectacles seated himself at the table and began making out the complaint, having first questioned Buzzell about the speed which the offenders had been making when they ran into the trap.

“Your name?” inquired the clerk, turning to the older man.

“Put down John Doe,” said the latter, “and Richard Roe,” he added, nodding toward his companion. “I am the owner of the car. Richard was driving when we were held up.”

The younger man gave him a queer look, and leaned closer, whispering something behind his hand. The answer was a grim smile and a shake of the head. After slight hesitation, the clerk wrote down the names as given.

The sound of heavy steps on the stairs preceded the entrance of Constable Small, who announced that the judge was out somewhere, but that Willie Baker and Nubby Snell had been sent scouting to find him.

“I never heard of such an outrage!” exploded the intensely annoyed Hitchens. “Somebody is going to regret this imposition. Time is valuable to us, and——”

“Don’t git flustered and fly off the handle, mister,” advised Deputy Newberry, twisting off a quid of War Horse with his teeth and stowing it, bulging, into his cheek with a tongue made dexterous by long practice. “It won’t joggle things along no faster, and I ca’late you’ll be the one to do the regrettin’ if you go shootin’ off a lot of loose talk. If you git sassy before the jedge, I warn ye now that it’ll prob’ly land ye in the caboose. ‘Go slow’ is a motter it’s best to toiler around here.”

“Why don’t you tell them something?” persisted Hitchens, again appealing to his companion.

“What talking I decide to do will be done to the judge himself,” said the older man.

In the course of fifteen minutes Judge Wiggin appeared. He was a lean and wiry man with a somewhat grim jaw and a steely blue eye. There was dignity in his manner. He scarcely glanced at the prisoners as he seated himself at the table opposite the clerk and adjusted his 

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