The large hand and the hoarse oath both belonged, of course, to Chief of Police Hodgins. As he grabbed the Camera Chap, the six plain-clothes men who had been lying in ambush pounced out of their various hiding places and surrounded the prisoner. The latter smiled grimly as he glanced swiftly around at this circle of scowling faces. “Gee whiz!” he exclaimed. “You’re certainly taking no chances on my getting away, chief. If I were a murderer or a desperate bank burglar I could scarcely expect a bigger bodyguard.” “You’re worse than a murderer or a bank burglar,” growled Hodgins. “And you’d better keep your mouth closed, or we’ll close it for you.” He snatched the camera from the prisoner’s hand and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. He had no fear of Hawley’s making his escape; but he used the handcuffs because he wished to make things as unpleasant as possible for that young man. As they started to march their captive down Main Street, Gale, walking close beside the Camera Chap, laughed like a villain in a melodrama. “Without exaggeration, my dear Hawley,” he chuckled, “this is quite the happiest day of my life.” CHAPTER XI. IN COURT. It was not until two hours after the Camera Chap’s arrest that his friend, Fred Carroll, learned of it. The proprietor of the _Bulletin_, returning to his office after his tryst with Melba Gale, was just seating himself at his desk when the telephone claimed his attention. It was the voice of Parsons, his police reporter, which came to him over the wire. “Is that you, Mr. Carroll?” said the reporter. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours. They’ve arrested your friend, Mr. Hawley. They’re just taking him to court now.” “The deuce you say!” exclaimed the proprietor of the _Bulletin_. “What have they got him for?” “Breaking the new anticamera law. I’m afraid he’s in bad, too, sir. Looks as if they’ve got him dead to rights. He took a photograph on the street outside the city hall, and they caught him at it. Of course, Hodgins will make the most of this opportunity to get square.” “Suffering Cæsar!” muttered Carroll, a troubled look on his face. “What magistrate are they taking him before, Parsons?” “Judge Wall, sir.” “Wall!” The troubled look on Carroll’s face deepened. “He’s the biggest grouch on the bench, and a personal friend of Hodgins. Poor old Hawley! I’m afraid they’ll give him the limit. All right, Parsons, I’ll be right over. We must see what we can do.”