The Forged Note. Micheaux Oscar

and what caught the attention of Sidney Wyeth was, that there was nothing criminal in his appearance. He was about twenty-five years of age, and wore shackles about his ankles, as well as upon his wrists. He made a pathetic picture. Sidney listened carefully, as he stood before the judge, while talking in an undertone. He could not hear what was said, but, presently, the prisoner was led outside and away. He never learned what charge was made against this young man, although he would have liked to know.

      On a table that stood to one side of the bench, behind which the judge and clerk sat, were several cases of liquor.

      Evidence against some poor devil was strong, thought Wyeth.

      The gavel fell.

      The first prisoner brought forward and placed before the judge, was a Negro of medium size and height, and about middle age. He did not possess the look of a criminal either. In fact, not all of these people, or any great part of them, appeared to be criminal, if Sidney Wyeth had observed criminology correctly. Yet there was a charge, himself for instance. This one was charged with having been drunk and making a big noise.

      He admitted the charge.

      "Where did you get it," demanded Judge Loyal.

      "On Dalton street."

      "Who from?"

      "A nigga."

      "Who was he?"

      "A nigga."

      "I don't mean that. What was his name?"

      "Dunno."

      "You don't know, yet you purchased enough liquor of him to get drunk, whoop it up and disturb the peace of the populace."

      "Yassar."

      "Did you ever see him before?"

      "Nawsar."

      "Was it corn whiskey or rye?"

      "Niedda."

      "Well—what was it?"

      "Gin."

      "Oh! Gin. … "

      "Sparrow Gin."

      "Ten dollars and cost. Next!"

      There was some delay before the next ones were brought forward. When they came, there was some anxiety. They were white men from one of the suburbs. As to how they happened to be in this court was a matter for conjecture; but the charge was fighting.

      A witness mounted the stand by request.

      "Your name is?—"

      "Bill Sykes."

      "William Sykes. Very well, William Sykes, what do you know about this affair? Tell it to the court."

      "Yer' 'onah, Judge," began Sykes, drawing his jeans coat sleeve across his mouth. "Yistidy I left home 'bout four a-clock 'n' come dawn to Abe Thomas' store, as I usually do for some t'baccer."

      "State what you know about this disturbance," cut in the recorder's voice. "The court has nothing to do about your tobacco."

      "Well, 's I started to say. I come down after some t'baccer.——"

      "Witness ordered removed from the stand. Put up the next," commanded the judge.

      Bill Sykes was summarily removed, as he muttered: "This is shore an all fired place to tell somethin'."

      "Your name is?"

      "Silas Harris."

      "Silas Harris, state briefly to the court what you know about this case."

      "Well, sir, Judge, yer 'onah. It was sho'tly afta' fo' er-clock when I came down to Abe Thomas' store, 's I always do to get a chaw t'baccer."

      The judge looked disgusted. Silas resumed.

      "'N' I wa'nt no morn' inside before Chris Tuttle says, says he t' me, 'ah Si', says he t' me, ah gimme a chaw t'baccer. Then I says to him, says I t' him, 'ah Chris,' says I t' him, 'I ain' got no t'baccer, 'n' I jes' come down t' see 'f I couldn't get a chaw of'n you!' says I t' him; 'but,' says I, says I t' him. 'I ain' got no t'baccer, Chris,' says I t' him; 'but I God, I got some a 's good-a ole rosin as yer ever broke a tooth on.'"

      "Case Nolle-prossed."

      Several Negroes were brought before the bar for various misdemeanors, were fined and few dismissed, while a great many were bound over. The next case to arouse any special attention, pertained to two white girls who were brought forward with drooped heads, and made a picture that attracted the attention of the crowd. The recorder frowned, as he observed then questioningly.

      "What's the charge?" he inquired of the officer, who presented himself as prosecutor.

      "Soliciting."

      "All right, prefer it."

      "Your honor, Judge. I found these young women hanging around Dewitt and Carlton streets this morning about one o'clock, and advised them to 'beat' it. They disappeared for a spell, but at a quarter past two they were out again, and I heard them and saw them accost several men who happened to be coming from work. Presently a couple halted, and a few minutes later the four disappeared within a rooming house. I had been watching this house, and was positive it was crooked. I followed them a little later, and when I was inside, I looked about for a clerk and register that I did not find. Then I overheard talking in low tones in a couple of the rooms. When I knocked on the door, all was quiet and the doors were not opened. I then demanded the doors be opened in the name of the law. A scrambling followed, I heard windows go up, and a little later men hit the ground below. When I entered the rooms I found these young women alone, and put them under arrest."

      The court room was very silent. All eyes were upon the prisoners. The fact that the girls were both beautiful seemed to provoke the judge, and he was very cold of demeanor.

      "What excuse have you to offer for such acts of indiscretion?" he inquired presently, and eyed them severely.

      They both burst out crying and clung to each other, which made a very pathetic picture. "We wasn't doing anything, Mr. Judge. Not anything. We lived there and the men were our husbands," said one, while the other cried woefully. The recorder eyed them critically, before speaking in a tone of extreme severity:

      "Why, then, did they jump out the windows and run away. … Don't you think that was very cowardly for husbands?"

      "O-oh," they cried now like two poor souls about to enter purgatory. They almost made others cry, too. But the judge was unbending. He looked forbidding, and as cold as steel as he said:

      "Young women like you two should exercise more discretion. If you must conduct yourselves to the disgrace of the community in such manner, you should keep off the streets with your men at such ungodly hours. I am, therefore, going to impose a fine of $10 and costs upon each of you for delinquency. Next!"

      "Boise Demon and Sidney Wyeth!" called the clerk with his eyes on the docket.

      The pair now stood facing the court.

      "Your Honor," began the officer, who had Wyeth in charge the night before, preferring the charge, "we found these fellows at two o'clock this morning, going in the direction of Warren street. And since, as you know, we have orders to intercept all people whose appearance is suspicious, and since they failed to give an account of themselves that was satisfactory, we considered it expedient to place them under arrest."

      The recorder nodded his acquiescence.

      "Your name?" he inquired of the chauffeur.

      "Boise Demon."

      "And yours?" of Wyeth.

      "What's your occupation, Demon?"

      "I'm a chauffeur 'n' wo'ks fo' Mr. Baron Ciders. You know him. 'Es mah boss. 'Es got a office in the—"

      "Why weren't you at home in bed ten hours before you were charged with being on the street?"