Part 33 (2/2)

”I ain't got no objection in the world to swearing out a warrant for you--since you've told me what your name is. But don't try to make no get-away till I come back.”

”I'll be right here--when you come back.”

The patrolman turned and walked away, and Boone wheeled briskly to the car.

”Now you gentlemen get out of this--and do a little warrant-swearing yourselves. Be over at Central Station in about forty-five minutes fixed to give bond for me. I reckon I'll be needing it.”

Ten minutes later, with a spectacular clanging of gongs, a police patrol clattered up, scattering the crowd and disgorging a wagonload of officers headed by a lieutenant with a drawn pistol.

They handled Boone with unnecessary roughness as they nipped the handcuffs on his wrists and bundled him into the wagon, but he had expected that. It was their cheap revenge, and he gave them no satisfaction of complaint.

In the cage at Central Station into which they thrust him, with more violence, his companions were a drunken negro and one or two other ”election offenders” like himself.

It was through the grating that he looked out a half hour later, to see Morgan Wallifarro standing outside.

”Father and the General are arranging bond,” announced the visitor. ”I wanted a word with you alone.”

Boone's only response was an acquiescent nod.

”I lost my head last night, Wellver,” Morgan went on shamefacedly. ”I was a d.a.m.ned fool, of course, to imagine that I could bully you, and a cad as well. I lied when I intimated that you were--not anybody's equal.

If I were you, I'd refuse to accept an apology, but at all events I've got to offer it--abjectly and humbly.”

There was no place in the close-netted grating of that door through which a hand could be thrust, and Boone grinned boyishly as he said, ”I accept your advice and refuse to shake hands with you--Wallifarro--until the door's opened.”

Boone's pistol was held, of course, as evidence, but without it he went back to the registration booth, and as he took his seat the man of the debauched face looked up, with surprised eyes, from his book; but this time he volunteered no comment.

In the police court on the following morning both Boone and his arresting officer were presented, as defendants, and the officer's case was called first on the docket. Taking the stand in his own defence, the officer glibly testified that he had struck General Prince, of whose ident.i.ty he had been unfortunately ignorant, because that gentleman had seemed to make a motion toward his hip pocket, but that he had, under much goading, refrained from striking Morgan Wallifarro.

”Why,” purred the shyster who defended him, ”did you so govern your temper under serious provocation?” And the unctuous reply was promptly and virtuously forthcoming: ”Because police officers are ordered not to use no more force than what they have to.”

General Prince smiled quietly, but Morgan fidgeted in his chair.

The police judge cleared his throat. ”It appears obvious to the Court,”

he ruled, ”that a man of General Prince's high character did not intend to threaten or hamper an officer in the proper performance of his sworn duty. But these gentlemen in the heat and pa.s.sion of political fervour seem to have a.s.sumed--unintentionally, perhaps--a somewhat high-handed and domineering att.i.tude. It would be manifestly unjust to exact of a mere patrolman a superior temperateness of judgment. Let the case be dismissed.”

But when Boone was called to the dock, the magistrate eyed him severely not through, but over, his gla.s.ses, putting into that silent scrutiny the stern disapproval of a man looking down his nose.

”I find three charges against this defendant,” he announced. ”The first is shooting and wounding; the second, carrying concealed a deadly weapon, and the third, interference with an officer in the discharge of his duty.”

The wounding of the flying squadron's leader was a matter for the future, since the victim of the bullet lay in a hospital, and that case had already been continued under a heavy bond. After hearing the evidence on the other accusations, the judge again cleared his throat.

”The 'pistol-toter' is a constant menace to the peace of the community, and there seems to be no doubt of guilt in the present case--but since the defendant has recently come from a section of the State which condones that offence, the Court is inclined to be lenient. The resistance to the officer was also a grave and inexcusable matter, but because of the character testimony given by General Prince and Colonel Wallifarro, I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt. I will, on my own motion, amend these charges to disorderly conduct. Mr. Clerk, enter a fine of $19 and a bond of $1,000 for a year.”

Morgan Wallifarro was, at once, on his feet.

”May it please your Honour, such a punishment is either much too severe or much too lenient. I move, your Honour, to increase the fine.”

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