hting the administration at present. They'll give it to
you hard. You see what they have already done to you."

"Then these snips of boys on the police detail won't write the truth?"

"They will write something so near like the truth that the public will
believe it. They write their stories under instruction, you know. They
have their orders to twist and color, and there won't be much left of
you when they get done. Better drop the whole thing right now. You are
in bad."

"But the trials are set."

"Give the word and they'll drop them now. A man can't fight a machine
unless he has a machine behind him."

III

But Carter Watson was stubborn. He was convinced that the machine would
beat him, but all his days he had sought social experience, and this was
certainly something new.

The morning of the trial the Prosecuting Attorney made another attempt
to patch up the affair.

"If you feel that way, I should like to get a lawyer to prosecute the
case," said Watson.

"No, you don't," said the Prosecuting Attorney. "I am paid by the People
to prosecute, and prosecute I will. But let me tell you. You have no
chance. We shall lump both cases into one, and you watch out."

Judge Witberg looked good to Watson. A fairly young man, short,
comfortably stout, smooth-shaven and with an intelligent face, he seemed
a very nice man indeed. This good impression was added to by the smiling
lips and the wrinkles of laughter in the corners of his black eyes.
Looking at him and studying him, Watson felt almost sure that his old
friend's prognostication was wrong.

But Watson was soon to learn. Patsy Horan and two of his satellites
testified to a most colossal aggregation of perjuries. Watson could not
have believed it possible without having experienced it. They denied
the existence of the other four men. And of the two that testified, one
claimed to have been in the kitchen, a witness to Watson's unprovoked
assault on Patsy, while the other, remaining in the bar, had witnessed
Watson's second and third rushes into the place as he attempted to
annihilate the unoffending Patsy. The vile language ascribed to Watson
was so voluminously and unspeakably vile, that he felt they were
injuring their own case. It was so impossible that he should utter such
things. But when they described the brutal blows he had rained on poor
Patsy's face, and the chair he demolished when he vainly attempted to
kick Patsy, Watson waxed secretly hilarious a