Many years ago, during the days of Fernando Wood, a connection of his was reputed to be the power behind the “policy” business in New York City—­the predecessor of the notorious Al Adams.  A “runner” belonging to the system having been arrested and policy slips having been found in his possession, the reigning Policy King retained a lawyer of eminent respectability to see what could be done about it.  The defendant was a particularly valuable man in the business and one for whom his employer desired to do everything in his power.  The lawyer advised the defendant to plead guilty, provided the judge could be induced to let him off with a fine, which the policy King agreed to pay.  Accordingly, the lawyer visited the judge in his chambers and the latter practically promised to inflict only a fine in case the defendant, whom we will call, out of consideration for his memory, “Johnny Dough,” should plead guilty.  Unfortunately for this very satisfactory arrangement, the judge, now long since deceased, was afflicted with a serious mental trouble which occasionally manifested itself in peculiar losses of memory.  When “Johnny Dough,” the Policy King’s favorite, was arraigned at the bar and, in answer to the clerk’s interrogation, stated that he withdrew his plea of “not guilty” and now stood ready to plead “guilty,” the judge, to the surprise and consternation of the lawyer, the defendant, and the latter’s assembled friends, turned upon him and exclaimed: 

“Ha!  So you plead guilty, do you?  Well, I sentence you to the penitentiary for one year, you miserable scoundrel!”

Utterly overwhelmed, “Johnny Dough!” was led away, while his lawyer and relatives retired to the corridor to express their opinion of the court.  About three months later the lawyer, who had heard nothing further concerning the case, happened to be in the office of the district attorney, when the latter looked up with a smile and inquired: 

“Well, how’s your client-Mr. Dough?”

“Safe on the Island, I suppose,” replied the lawyer,

“Not a bit of it,” returned the district attorney.  “He never went there.”

“What do you mean?” inquired the lawyer.  “I heard him sentenced to a year myself!”

“I can’t help that,” said the district attorney.  “The other day a workingman went down to the Island to see his old friend `Johnny Dough.’  There was only one `Johnny Dough’ on the lists, but when he was produced the visitor exclaimed:  `That Johnny Dough!  That ain’t him at all, at all!’ The visitor departed in disgust.  We instituted an investigation and found that the man at the Island was a `ringer.’”

“You don’t say!” cried the lawyer.

“Yes,” continued the district attorney.  “But that is not the best part of it.  You see, the `ringer’ says he was to get two hundred dollars per month for each month of Dough’s sentence which he served.  The prison authorities have refused to keep him any longer, and now he is suing them for damages, and is trying to get a writ of mandamus to compel them to take him back and let him serve out the rest of the sentence!”