r
Jehoshaphat said that he would be glad to speak with William Smith
afterwards in the magistrates' room, indicating that he sympathized
with William Smith, and wished to exercise upon William Smith his
renowned philanthropy.

And so, at about noon, when the Court majestically rose, Sir Jee
retired to the magistrates' room, where the humble Alderman Easton was
discreet enough not to follow him, and awaited William Smith. And
William Smith came, guided thither by a policeman, to whom, in parting
from him, he made a rude, surreptitious gesture.

Sir Jee, seated in the arm-chair which dominates the other chairs round
the elm table in the magistrates' room, emitted a preliminary cough.

'Smith,' he said sternly, leaning his elbows on the table, 'you were
very fortunate this morning, you know.'

And he gazed at Smith.

Smith stood near the door, cap in hand. He did not resemble a burglar,
who surely ought to be big, muscular, and masterful. He resembled an
undersized clerk who has been out of work for a long time, but who has
nevertheless found the means to eat and drink rather plenteously. He
was clothed in a very shabby navy-blue suit, frayed at the wrists and
ankles, and greasy in front. His linen collar was brown with dirt, his
fingers were dirty, his hair was unkempt and long, and a young and
lusty black beard was sprouting on his chin. His boots were not at all
pleasant.

'Yes, governor,' Smith replied, lightly, with a Manchester accent. 'And
what's YOUR game?'

Sir Jee was taken aback. He, the chairman of the borough Bench, and the
leading philanthropist in the country, to be so spoken to! But what
could he do? He himself had legally established Smith's innocence.
Smith was as free as air, and had a perfect right to adopt any tone he
chose to any man he chose. And Sir Jee desired a service from William
Smith.

'I was hoping I might be of use to you,' said Sir Jehoshaphat
diplomatically.

'Well,' said Smith, 'that's all right, that is. But none of your
philanthropic dodges, you know. I don't want to lead a new life, and I
don't want to turn over a new leaf, and I don't want a helpin' hand,
nor none o' those things. And, what's more, I don't want a situation.
I've got all the situation as I need. But I never refuse money, nor
beer neither. Never did, and I'm forty years old next month.'

'I suppose burgling doesn't pay very well, does it?' Sir Jee boldly
ventured.

William Smith laughed coarsely.

'It