"Try _him_; he's a _short_ one," for it was getting late, and the afternoon sun was already gilding the dingy cornices of the big court-room, now almost deserted save by a lounger or two half asleep on the benches. "People against Graham," called Dockbridge, the youthful deputy assistant district attorney. "Fill the box!" shouted the clerk. "James Graham to the bar!" and another dozen "good men and true" answered to their names and settled themselves comfortably in their places. At the rear the door from the pen opened and the prisoner entered, escorted by an officer. He walked stolidly around the room, passed through the gate held open for him, and took his seat at the table reserved for the defendant and his attorney. There appeared, however, to be no lawyer to represent him. "Have you counsel?" casually inquired the clerk. "No," answered the prisoner. "Mr. Crookshanks, please look after the rights of this defendant," directed the Judge. The prisoner, a thick-set man of medium height, half rose from his seat, and, turning toward the weazened little lawyer, shook his head rather impatiently. It was obvious that they were not strangers. After a whispered conversation Crookshanks stepped forward and addressed the Court. "The defendant declines counsel, and stands upon his constitutional right to defend himself," he said apologetically. There was a slight lifting of heads among the jury, and a few sharp glances in the direction of the prisoner, which seemed in no wise to disconcert him. "Very well, then; proceed," ordered the Court. The prosecutor rapidly outlined his case--one of simple "larceny from the person." The People would show that the defendant had taken a wallet from the pocket of the complaining witness. He had been caught _in flagrante delicto_. There were several eye-witnesses. The case would occupy but a few moments, unless, to be sure, the prisoner had some witnesses. The young assistant, who seemed slightly nervous at the unusual prospect of conducting a trial against a lawyerless defendant (savoring as it did of a hand-to-hand combat in the days of trial by battle), started to comment upon the novelty of the situation, gave it up, and to cover his retreat called his first witness. Dockbridge was very young indeed. He was undergoing the process of being "whipped into shape" by the Judge, a kind but unrelenting observer of all the technicalities of the criminal branch, and this was one of his first cases. He could work up a pretty fair argument in his office, but he now felt his inexperience and began to wish it was time to adjourn, or that his senior, "Colonel Bob," the stout Nestor of Part One, whose long practice made him ready for any emergency, would return. But "Colonel Bob" could have proved an excellent alibi at that moment, and the battle had to be fought out alone.