The next day "Part One of the Court of General Sessions of the Peace, in and for the County of New York," was crowded to suffocation, for the dramatic nature of Jim's act of self-sacrifice had not been forgotten, and a keen interest remained in its _denouement_. It was a brilliant January noon, and the sun poured through the great windows, casting irregular patches of light upon the throng within. High above the crowd of lawyers, witnesses, and policemen sat the Judge; below him, the clerk and Assistant District Attorney conferred together as to the order in which the cases should be tried; to the left reclined a row of non-combatants, "district leaders," ex-police magistrates, and a few privileged spectators; outside the rail crowded the members of the "criminal bar"; while in the main body of the room the benches were tightly packed with loafers, "runners" for the attorneys, curious women, indignant complainants, and sympathizing friends of the various defendants. Here no one was allowed to stand, but nearer the door the pressure became too great, and once more an overplus, new-comers, lawyers who could not force their way to the front, tardy policemen, persons who could not make up their minds to come in and sit down, and stragglers generally, formed a solid mass, absolutely blocking the entrance, and preventing those outside from getting in or anyone inside from getting out. Around the room the huge pipes of the radiators clicked diligently; full steam was on, not a window open. Jim was called to the bar, the jury sworn, and Dockbridge, with several innuendoes reflecting upon the moral character of any man who would confess himself a criminal and yet put the county to the expense and trouble of a trial, briefly opened the case. The stenographer who had taken Jim's confession was the first witness. He read his notes in full, while Dockbridge nodded with an air of finality in the direction of the jury. "Do you care to cross-examine, Mr. Crookshanks?" he inquired. The lawyer shook his head. Jim sat smiling, self-possessed, and silent. The youthful Assistant, still hoping to wring a plea from the defendant, paused and leaned toward the prisoner's counsel. "Come, come, what's the use?" he suggested benignantly. "Why go through all this farce? Let him plead guilty to 'robbery in the second degree.' He'll be lucky to get that! It's his only chance." But upon the lean and withered visage of the veteran Crookshanks flickered an inscrutable smile, like that which played upon the features of his client. "Not on your _tin-type_!" he ejaculated. Dockbridge shrugged his shoulders, hesitated a moment, then glanced a trifle uneasily toward the crowd of spectators. Once more he turned in the direction of the prisoner. "Well, I'll let him plead to grand larceny instead of robbery," he said, with an air of acting against his better judgment. Crookshanks grinned sardonically and again shook his head.