"Hats off!" the policeman at the door shouted, as Morris walked up the
aisle with his attorney, and a moment later they passed into the
enclosure for counsel.

"My client and his witnesses have been here since twelve o'clock," a
lawyer was explaining while Morris sat down, "and in the meantime his
place of business has been closed."

At this juncture the client in question caught sight of Morris and
ripped out so strong an Italian expletive that the court interpreter
nearly swooned.

"What business is he in?" the magistrate asked.

"He's in the banking business on Mulberry Street," the lawyer continued,
"and it's impossible to say what harm all this may do him."

"Call the case again," the magistrate said.

"Witnesses in the case of Giuseppe Caraccioli please step forward," the
interpreter announced, and the policeman in the rear of the courtroom
repeated the injunction to the loungers in the stairway.

"Guy-seppy Scratch-oly," he bellowed, and Morris heard him from his seat
in the enclosure for counsel. He jumped to his feet and made for the
gate.

"Where are you going?" Sholy demanded, grabbing him by the coat.