The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories

by George Barr McCutcheon

  The polite officers came up to the window with their little note-books.

  “I regret, m’sieur, that we shall be obliged to conduct yourself and mademoiselle to the office of a magistrate. Under the new regulations set forth in the order of last May, motorists may be given a hearing at once. I regret to add that m’sieur has been exceeding the speed limit. A complaint came in but a few minutes ago from the Porte de la Muette and we have been ordered to intercept the car. You may follow us to the office of the magistrate, m’sieur. It will soon be over, mademoiselle.”

  “But we can explain—” she began nervously.

  The sergent held up his hand. “It is not necessary to explain, mademoiselle. Too many motorists have explained in the past but that does not restore to life the people they have killed in the pursuit of pleasure. Paris is enforcing her laws.”

  “But, sergent, I alone am to blame for any violation of the law,” said Robin suavely. “Surely it is only necessary that I should accompany you to the magistrate. The young lady is in no way responsible—”

  “Alas, m’sieur,” said the man firmly but as if he were quite broken-hearted, “it is not for me to disobey the law, even though you may do so. It is necessary for the lady to appear before the Judge, and it is our duty to convey her there. The new law explicitly says that all occupants of said car shall be subject to penalty under the law without reprieve or pardon!”

  “Where are your witnesses?” demanded Robin.

  The two men produced their watches and their notebooks, tapping them significantly.

  “M’sieur will not think of denying that he has been running more rapidly than the law allows,” said the second officer. “It will go harder with him if he should do so.”

  “I shall insist upon having an advocate to represent me before—”

  “As you like, m’sieur,” said the first officer curtly. “Proceed!” he uttered as a command to the chauffeur, and forthwith mounted his wheel. A score of people had gathered round them by this time, and Miss Guile was crouching back in her corner. Her veil was down. In single file, so to speak, they started off for the office of the nearest magistrate appointed under the new law governing automobiles. A policeman pedaled ahead of the car and another followed.

  “Isn’t it dreadful?” whispered Miss Guile. “What do you think they will do to us? Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Schmidt, to have dragged you into this horrid—”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world,” said he so earnestly that she sat up a little straighter and caught her breath. “After all, they will do no more than assess a fine against us. A hundred francs, perhaps. That is nothing.”

  “I am not so sure of that,” said she gloomily. “My friends were saying only yesterday that the new law provides for imprisonment as well. Paris has constructed special prisons for motorists, and people are compelled to remain in them for days and weeks at a time. Oh, I hope—”

  “I’ll inquire of the footman,” said Robin. “He will know.” The footman, whose face was very long and serious, replied through the tube that very few violators escaped confinement in the “little prisons.” He also said “Mon dieu” a half dozen times, and there was a movement of the driver’s pallid lips that seemed to indicate a fervent echo.

  “I shall telephone at once—to my friends,” said Miss Guile, a note of anger in her voice. “They are very powerful in Paris. We shall put those miserable wretches in their proper places. They—”

  “We must not forget. Miss Guile, that we were breaking the law,” said Robin, who was beginning to enjoy the discomfiture of this spoiled beauty, this girl whose word was a sort of law unto itself.

  “It is perfect nonsense,” she declared. “We did no harm. Goodness! What is this?”

  Four or five policemen on wheels passed by the car, each with a forbidding glance through the windows.

  “They are the boys we left behind us,” paraphrased Robin soberly. “The park policemen. They’ve just caught us up, and, believe me, they look serious, too. I dare say we are in for it.”

  In a very few minutes the procession arrived at a low, formidable looking building on a narrow side street. The cavalcade of policemen dismounted and stood at attention while Mademoiselle and Monsieur got down from the car and followed a polite person in uniform through the doors. Whereupon the group of sergents de ville trooped in behind, bringing with them the neatly liveried servants with the golden letter L on their cuffs.

  “I believe there is a jail back there,” whispered the slim culprit, a quaver in her voice. She pointed down the long, narrow corridor at the end of which loomed a rather sinister looking door with thick bolt-heads studding its surface.

  An instant later they were ushered into a fair-sized room on the left of the hall, where they were commanded to sit down. A lot of chairs stood about the room, filling it to the farthest corners, while at the extreme end was the Judge’s bench.

  “I insist on being permitted to telephone to friends—to my legal advisors,—” began Miss Guile, with praiseworthy firmness, only to be silenced by the attendant, who whispered shrilly that a trial was in progress, couldn’t she see?

  Two dejected young men were standing before the Judge, flanked by three sergents de ville. Robin and Miss Guile stared wide-eyed at their fellow criminals and tried to catch the low words spoken by the fat Magistrate. Once more they were ordered to sit down, this time not quite so politely, and they took seats in the darkest corner of the room, as far removed from justice as possible under the circumstances.

  Presently a young man approached them. He was very nice looking and astonishingly cheerful. The hopes of the twain went up with a bound. His expression was so benign, so bland that they at once jumped to the conclusion that he was coming to tell them that they were free to go, that it had all been a stupid mistake. But they were wrong. He smilingly introduced himself as an advocate connected with the court by appointment and that he would be eternally grateful to them if they would tell him what he could do for them.

  “I’d like to have a word in private with the Magistrate,” said the Prince of Graustark eagerly.

  “Impossible!” said the advocate, lifting his eyebrows and his smart little mustachios in an expression of extreme amazement. “It is imposs—” A sharp rapping on the Judge’s desk reduced the remainder of the sentence to a delicate whisper—”ible. M’sieur.”

  “Will you conduct me to a telephone booth?” whispered Miss Guile, tearfully.

  “Pray do not weep, Mademoiselle,” implored the advocate, profoundly moved, but at the same time casting a calculating eye over the luckless pair.

  “Well, what’s to be done?” demanded Robin. “We insist on having our own legal advisors here.”

  “The court will not delay the hearing, M’sieur,” explained the young man. “Besides, the best legal advisor in Paris could do no more than to advise you to plead guilty. I at least can do that quite as ably as the best of them. No one ever pretends to defend a case in the automobile courts, M’sieur. It is a waste of time, and the court does not approve of wasting time. Perhaps you will feel more content if I introduce the assistant public prosecutor, who will explain the law. That is his only duty. He does not prosecute. There is no need. The sergents testify and that is all there is to the case.”

  “May I inquire what service you can be to us if the whole business is cut and dried like that?” asked Robin.

  “Not so loud, M’sieur. As I said before, I can advise you in respect to your plea, and I can tell you how to present your statement to the court. I can caution you in many ways. Sometimes a prisoner, who is well-rehearsed, succeeds in affecting the honourable Magistrate nicely, and the punishment is not so severe.”

  “So you advise us to plead guilty as delicately as possible?”

  “I shall not advise you, M’sieur, unless it pleases you to retain me as your counsellor. The fee is small. Ten francs. Inasmuch as the amount is charged against you in the supplemental costs, it seems foolis
h not to take advantage of what you are obliged to pay for in any event. You will have to pay my fee, so you may as well permit me to be of service to you.”

  “My only concern is over Mademoiselle,” said the Prince. “You may send me to jail if you like, if you’ll only—”

  “Mon dieu! I am not the one who enjoys the distinguished honour of being permitted to send people to jail, but the Judge, M’sieur.”

  “It is ridiculous to submit this innocent young lady to the humiliation of—”

  “It is not only ridiculous but criminal,” said the advocate, with a magnificent bow. “But what is one to do when it is the law? Of late, the law is peculiarly sexless. And now here is where I come in. It is I who shall instruct you—both of you, Mademoiselle—how to conduct yourselves before the Magistrate. Above all things, do not attempt to contradict a single statement of the police. Admit that all they say is true, even though they say that you have run over a child or an old woman with mortal results. It will go much easier with you. Exercise the gravest politeness and deference toward the honourable Magistrate and to every officer of the court. You are Americans, no doubt. The courts are prone to be severe with the Americans because they sometimes undertake to tell them how easy it is to get the right kind of justice in your wonderfully progressive United States. Be humble, contrite, submissive, for that is only justice to the court. If you have killed some one in your diversions, pray do not try to tell the magistrate that the idiot ought to have kept his eyes open. Another thing: do not inform the court that you require a lawyer. That is evidence of extreme culpability and he will consider you to be inexcusably guilty. Are you attending? Pray do not feel sorry for the two young men who are now being led away. See! They are weeping. It is as I thought. They are going to prison for—But that is their affair, not ours. I advised them as I am advising you, but they insisted on making a statement of their case. That was fatal, for it failed in many respects to corroborate the information supplied by the police. It-”

  “What was the charge against them?” whispered Miss Guile, quaking. She had watched the exit of the tearful young men, one of whom was sobbing bitterly, and a great fear possessed her.

  “Of that, Mademoiselle, I am entirely ignorant, but they were unmistakably guilty of denying it, whatever it was.”

  “Are they going to prison?” she gasped.

  “It is not that which causes them to weep so bitterly, but the knowledge that their names are to be posted on the bulletin boards in the Place de l’Opera, the Place de l’Concorde, the—”

  “Good Lord!” gasped Robin. “Is that being done?”

  “It is M’sieur, and the effect is marvellous. Three months ago the boards were filled with illustrious names; today there are but few to be found upon them. The people have discovered that the courts are in earnest. The law is obeyed as it never was before. The prisons were crowded to suffocation at one time; now they are almost empty. It is a good law. Today a mother can wheel her baby carriage in the thickest of the traffic and run no risk of—Ah, but here is the assistant prosecutor coming. Permit me to further warn you that you will be placed under oath to tell the absolute truth. The prosecutor will ask but three questions of you: your age, your name and your place of residence. All of them you must answer truthfully, especially as to your names. If it is discovered that you have falsely given a name not your own, the lowest penalty is sixty days in prison, imposed afterwards in addition to the sentence you will receive for violating the traffic laws. I have performed my duty as required by the commissioner. My fee is a fixed one, so you need not put your hand into your pocket, M’sieur. Good day. Mademoiselle—good day, M’sieur.” He bowed profoundly and gave way to the impatient prosecutor, who had considerately held himself aloof while the final words were being uttered, albeit he glanced at his watch a couple of times.

  “Come,” he said, and he did not whisper; “let us be as expeditious as possible. Approach the court. It is—”

  “See here,” said Robin savagely, “this is too damned high-handed. Are we to have no chance to defend ourselves? We—”

  “Just as you please, M’sieur,” interrupted the prosecutor patiently. “It is nothing to me. I receive my fee in any event. If you care to defy the law in addition to what you have already done, it is not for me to object.”

  “Well, I insist on having—”

  A thunderous pounding on the bench interrupted his hot-headed speech.

  “Attend!” came in a sharp, uncompromising voice from the bench. “What is the delay? This is no time to think. All that should have been done before. Step forward! Sergent, see that the prisoners step forward.”

  Robin slipped his arm through Miss Guile’s, expecting her to droop heavily upon it for support. To his surprise she drew herself up, dis-engaged herself, and walked straight up to the bench, without fear or hesitation. It was Robin who needed an example of courage and fortitude, not she. The chauffeur and footman, shivering in their elegance, already stood before the bench.

  “Will you be so kind as to raise your veil, Madam?” spake the court.

  She promptly obeyed. He leaned forward with sudden interest. The prosecutor blinked and abruptly overcame the habitual inclination to appear bored. Such ravishing beauty had never before found its way into that little court-room. Adjacent moustaches were fingered somewhat convulsively by several sergents de ville.

  “Ahem!” said the court, managing with some difficulty to regain his judicial form. “I am compelled by law, Mademoiselle, to warn you before you are placed under oath that the lowest penalty for giving a false name in answer to the charge to be brought against you is imprisonment for not less than sixty days. I repeat this warning to you, young man. Be sworn, if you please.”

  Robin experienced a queer sense of exultation, not at all lessened by the knowledge that he would be forced to reveal his own identity. “Would she call herself Bedelia Guile or would she—”

  “State your name, Mademoiselle,” said the prosecutor.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THREE MESSAGES

  Miss Guile lowered her head for an instant. Robin could see that her lip was quivering. A vast pity for her took possession of him and he was ashamed of what he now regarded as unexampled meanness of spirit on his own part. She lifted her shamed, pleading eyes to search his, as if expecting to find succour in their fearless depths. She found them gleaming with indignation, suddenly aroused, and was instantly apprehensive. There was a look in those eyes of his that seemed prophetic of dire results unless she checked the words that were rising to his lips. She shook her head quickly and, laying a hand upon his arm, turned to the waiting magistrate.

  “My name is—Oh, is there no way to avoid the publicity—” she sighed miserably—”the publicity that—”

  “I regret, Mademoiselle, that there is no alternative—” began the Judge, to be interrupted by the banging of the court-room door. He looked up, glaring at the offender with ominous eyes. The polite attendant from the outer corridor was advancing in great haste. He was not only in haste but vastly perturbed.

  Despite the profound whack of the magistrate’s paper weight on the hollow top of the desk and the withering scowl that went with it, the attendant rushed forward, forgetting his manners, his habits and his power of speech in one complete surrender to nature. He thrust into the hand of the Judge a slip of paper, at the same time gasping something that might have been mistaken for an appeal for pardon but which more than likely was nothing of the sort.

  “What is this?” demanded the Judge ferociously.

  “Mon dieu!” replied the attendant, rolling his eyes heavenward.

  The magistrate was impressed. He took up the slip of paper and read what was written thereon. Then he was guilty of a start. The next instant he had the prosecutor up beside him and then the advocate. Together they read the message from the outside and together they lifted three pairs of incredulous eyes to stare at the culprits below. There was a hurried consultation in excited whisperi
ngs, intermittent stares and far from magisterial blinkings.

  Robin bent close to Bedelia’s ear and whispered: “We must have killed some one, the way they are acting.”

  Her face was glowing with triumph. “No. Luck is with us, Mr. Schmidt. You’ll see!”

  The magistrate cleared his throat and beamed upon them in a most friendly fashion.

  Robin grasped the situation in a flash. His own identity had been revealed to the Judge. It was not likely that the daughter of William Blithers could create such lively interest in a French court of justice, so it must be that Gourou or Quinnox had come to the rescue. The court would not think of fining a prince of the royal blood, law or no law!

  “M’sieur, Mademoiselle, will you be so good as to resume your seats? An extraordinary condition has arisen. I shall be obliged to investigate. The trial must be interrupted for a few minutes. Pardon the delay. I shall return as quickly as possible. Sergent! See that Mademoiselle and M’sieur are made comfortable.”

  He descended from the bench and hurried into the corridor, followed closely by the prosecutor and the advocate, both of whom almost trod on his heels. This may have been due to the fact that they were slighter men and more sprightly, but more than likely it was because they were unable to see where they were going for the excellent reason that they were not looking in that direction at all.

  Policemen and attendants, mystified but impressed, set about to make the culprits comfortable. They hustled at least a half dozen roomy chairs out of an adjoining chamber; they procured palm-leaf fans and even proffered the improbable—ice-water!—after which they betook themselves to a remote corner and whispered excitedly at each other, all the while regarding the two prisoners with intense interest. Even the despairing footman and chauffeur exhibited unmistakable signs of life.