“I happened to be in the police station when the boy was brought in.  He told a straightforward story about having been on the way to deliver some groceries, when he was hailed by one of three men, who asked him a few questions, and then offered him a dollar if he would hold an envelope, which was supposed to contain twelve hundred and fifty dollars, for a few minutes.  The thought of earning such a sum of money so easily evidently caused the boy to forget all discretion.  But as the minutes went by and the two men did not reappear, the boy grew restless, and finally suggested that he hand the envelope to Officer McCarty here, and that he be allowed to go about his errand of delivering the groceries.  Then——­”

Interrupting, the magistrate turned to Simpkins, and demanded suddenly: 

“Is that true?”

The question was so unexpected that the countryman was surprised into answering truthfully, and replied: 

“Yes, sir.”

Realizing that the turn of affairs was making them appear ridiculous, the officer who had suggested that Bob be allowed to plead guilty, and receive a light sentence, if he would divulge the name of the two swindlers, hurriedly exclaimed: 

“But the boy has a bad record, your honor.”

“That is not so, your honor,” retorted Foster hotly.  “When I found that the sergeant was determined to hold the boy, I went to the man for whom he works—­his name is Len Dardus—­and made inquiries about him.  Mr. Dardus is his guardian, and though it was evident that he had no love for the boy, the worst he could say about him was that he took a half hour to deliver an order that should have been delivered in twenty minutes.  As to his associating with bad companions, that is not so, for his guardian said he was never out at night, always preferring to read.”

“If the boy is such a paragon of virtue, why didn’t his guardian come to court himself and try to help the boy, instead of leaving it to a reporter?” sneered the officer who was trying so hard to make a case against Bob.

“I tried to get him to come,” exclaimed Foster, “but he refused on the ground that he could not leave his store.”

“You reporters are certainly good ones at putting up a plausible story,” retorted the officer contemptuously.

Striking his desk a sharp rap with his gavel, the magistrate exclaimed: 

“When I want to hear from you, sir, I will let you know.  You would make a far better impression if you and the sergeant and every other available man connected with the precinct were out searching for the two swindlers, instead of trying to send a poor, almost friendless, lad to prison.  If you arrested half as many criminals as you do innocent men, it wouldn’t take long to rid this city of crime.”

So stinging was this rebuke that the reporters were busy writing down the words of the judge, and before they had finished, the magistrate said: