Dead silence. No reply while the Unknown and the stenographer muttered together. Finally, when Mr. Marsh repeated the question, the latter replied, “I do. I arrest her on my own authority. Patrolman Thomas J. Murphy.” Mr. Marsh said to the Unknown, “It’s customary for brothers of the law to give each other their names. Mine is Robert Marsh, practicing attorney. May I not know with whom I am speaking?” “I’m just a bystander.” “Well, Mr. Bystander, won’t you instruct the police officer to be more explicit in his statement of facts?” “Look here, Marsh, I’m telling you the officer is arresting this witness on his own initiative.” He, too, left the room. Juliet, Mr. Marsh, and I entered her car and young Stenographer-Patrolman Murphy, obviously ill at ease, sat beside the chauffeur. At the Elizabeth Street Court, Magistrate Peter A. Hatting smiled cheerfully at us from behind his desk, “Well, where’s the prisoner?” Murphy made a feeble gesture in Juliet’s direction and said in a whisper which we could overhear, “It’s a birth control case.” “Oh, I see. Well, what was she selling—where are the articles?” Murphy could produce none. “Well, well, where is the evidence?” Murphy looked even more embarrassed, mumbled that he didn’t have any. “Well, the court is adjourned anyway, and we’ll have to wait until this afternoon.” I was turning my back on Murphy, very cross at him, but Juliet asked him to lunch with us. “He didn’t want to arrest me, did you, Mr. Murphy?” And Mr. Murphy shook his head most decidedly. While we ate, he explained that our Unknown was Assistant Corporation Counsel Martin W. Dolphin, with offices in the Police Department, that he himself was Mr. Dolphin’s private secretary, that he had been brought to the inquiry merely to take dictation, that he had been only ten months on the force, that he had never arrested anybody before, and that when Mr. Dolphin had said to arrest Mrs. Rublee he had protested, “Why, I can’t arrest her. I haven’t seen her do anything to be arrested for!” “I’m awfully sorry,” he went on, addressing Juliet, “but I had to obey orders. If I didn’t, I’d be in an awful mess. Gee, why didn’t they get some of the old fellows down there to do it?” When we returned to court, Assistant District Attorney Wilson said to Magistrate Hatting, “Your Honor, I have no evidence in this case. The police have furnished nothing to the District Attorney’s office. If I have not sufficient evidence by three-thirty I’ll dismiss the whole thing.” Then we waited. Eventually the expected “minutes and statement” arrived. Murphy swore that they were true—to Juliet’s wholehearted disgust. Her faith in human nature had been betrayed; she did not see why he preferred to keep his job rather than his self-respect. Magistrate Hatting seemed anxious to make everybody comfortable—Juliet, the Catholics, the police, and the public—and to convey the impression nobody was really to blame.