Warburton took his time over the coffee and bacon. He wanted to think out a reasonable defense without unmasking himself. He was thinking how he could get word to me, too. The "duffer" might prove a friend in need. "Now where?" asked Warburton, wiping his mouth. "T' th' court. It'll go hard with ye if ye're handed over t' th' grand jury on th' charge of abduction. Ye'd better make a clean breast of it. I'll speak a word for yer behavior." "Aren't you a little curious?" "It's a part of me business,"--gruffly. "I'll have my say to the judge," said Warburton. "That's yer own affair. Come." Once outside, Warburton lost color and a large part of his nonchalance; for an open patrol stood at the curb. "Have I got to ride in that?"--disgustedly. "As true as life; an' if ye make any disturbance, so much th' worse." Warburton climbed in, his face red with shame and anger. He tied his handkerchief around his chin and tilted his hat far down over his eyes. "'Fraid of meetin' some of yer swell friends, hey? Ten t' one, yer a swell an' was runnin' away with th' wrong woman. Mind, I have an eye on ye." The patrol rumbled over the asphalt on the way down-town. Warburton buried his face in his hands. Several times they passed a cigar-store, and his mouth watered for a good cigar, the taste of a clear Havana. He entered the police-court, not lacking in curiosity. It was his first experience with this arm of the civil law. He wasn't sure that he liked it. It wasn't an inviting place with its bare benches and its motley, tawdry throng. He was plumped into a seat between some ladies of irregular habits, and the stale odor of intoxicants, mingling with cheap perfumery, took away the edge of his curiosity. "Hello, pretty boy; jag?" asked one of these faded beauties, in an undertone. She nudged him with her elbow. "No, sweetheart," he replied, smiling in spite of himself. "Ah gowan! Been pinching some one's wad?" "Nope!" "What are you here for, then?" "Having a good time without anybody's consent. If you will listen, you will soon hear all about it." "Silence there, on the bench!" bawled the clerk, whacking the desk. "Say, Marie," whispered the woman to her nearest neighbor, "here's a boy been selling his master's harness and got pinched." "But look at the sweet things coming in, will you! Ain't they swell, though?" whispered Marie, nodding a skinny feather toward the door. Warburton glanced indifferently in the direction indicated, and received a shock. Two women--and both wore very heavy black veils. The smaller of the two inclined her body, and he was sure that her scrutiny was for him. He saw her say something into the ear of the companion, and repeat it to one of the court lawyers. The lawyer approached the desk, and in his turn whispered a few words into the judge's ear. The magistrate nodded. Warburton was conscious of a blush of shame. This was a nice position for any respectable woman to see him in! "James Osborne!" called the clerk.