McAllister made no answer. If he proclaimed who he was and demanded an immediate hearing, the harpies of the press would fill the papers with full accounts of his episode. His incognito must be preserved at any cost. Whatever action he might decide to take, this was not the time and place; a better opportunity would undoubtedly present itself later in the day. "You are charged with the crime of burglary," continued the Judge, "and it is further alleged that you are a fugitive from justice in two other States. What have you to say for yourself?" McAllister sought the Judge's eye in vain. "I have nothing to say," he replied faintly. There was a renewed scratching of pens. The Judge conferred with the clerk for a moment. "Any question of the prisoner's identity?" he asked. "Oh, no," replied Tom conclusively. "The fact is, yer onner, we took him by accident, as you may say. We laid a plant for a feller doin' second-story work on the avenoo, and when we nabbed him, who should it be but Welch! Ye see, they wired on his description from Philadelphia a couple of weeks ago, but we couldn't find hide or hair of him in the city, and had about give up lookin'. Then, quite unexpected, we scoops him in. Here's his indentity," handing the Judge a soiled telegraph blank. "It's him, all right," he added with a grin. The magistrate glanced at the form and at McAllister. "Seems to fit," he commented. "Have you looked for the scar?" Tom laughed. "Sure! I seen it when he was gettin' his measurements took, down to headquarters." "Turn around, Welch, and let's see your back," directed the magistrate. The clubman turned around and displayed his collarless neck. "There it is!" exclaimed Tom. McAllister mechanically put his hand to his neck and turned faint. He had had in his childhood an almost forgotten fall, and the scar was still there. He experienced a genuine thrill of horror. "Well," continued the magistrate, "the prisoner is entitled to counsel, and, besides, I am sure that the complainant, Mr. Brown, has no desire to be delayed here on Christmas Day. I will set the hearing for ten o'clock to-morrow morning, at the Tombs police court. I shall be sitting there for Judge Mason the rest of the week, beginning to-morrow, and will take the case along with me. You might suggest to the Warden that it would be more convenient to send the prisoner down to the Tombs, so that there need be no delay." The complainant bowed, and the officer at the bridge slapped McAllister not unkindly upon the back. "You'll need a pretty good lawyer," he remarked with a wink. "Next!" ordered the Judge.