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 "Well, where's the complainant? Samuel Sickles!"

No answer.

"Sickles, step forward."

But no one came forward in answer to the summons.

Judge Manning ran an irritable hand through his straggly wisp of beard. "Who took this complaint? You, Sergeant? Did the complainant know he was to be here at eight o'clock? Did you tell him?"

"I told him the time," Sergeant Rockwell answered, "and he repeated it after me."

"Judge," piped a voice; "he won't be here to-night. He's gone away."

The judge adjusted his glasses and peered down the court room. "Who said that? Stand up and let me get a look at you."

A man stood up, a bit abashed by this sudden prominence into which he had been thrust.

"Oh! It's you, Dave Webb. What do you know about this Sickles?"

"Judge, I was at the station and saw him get on the 7:09 train for the city. He was carrying two suit cases."

Judge Manning slapped the desk with a show of impatience. "What do people mean by making complaints and not coming here when they're wanted? You're sure you know this Sickles, Dave?"