Page:The Black Cat November 1916.djvu/25

Rh stress on this violation of business ethics? Whoever it was expressed my sentiments."

"How much does the Shtate of New Jersey owe us roight now?" he inquired.

"Considering mental anguish, ruin of business, lawyer's fees and fine, I should say about three thousand dollars. Neverthe—"

He again interrupted. "Yer estimate's low. But it disposes of the shtate. As to the motorist: There is written in the shtatutes of this shtate a law which provides a pinalty to be assissed on thim that droive their automobiles or motorcycles beyant a given shpade.

"Ivery toime a motorist violates this shtatute and gets away with it, he defrauds and insults this inglorious commonwealth. In shpoite of yer opinion of shpade traps, Oi think they're a grand and not unnaccassary corractive inshtitution. Not less than half a dozen toimes this very day we have been missed be the diameter of an oylash as some woild divil shot by. Can't ye see that we're doin' the shtate a sarvice be the settin' of this trap? At the same toime the money we collect in the name of the shtate, and turn over to ourselves rajuces the shtate's debt to us, and don't cost the shtate anything. Wan thing Oi'll grant: the shtate won't appreciate the work we're about to do. But rapublics and commonwealths are provarbially ungrateful."

I wrung his hand. Terry's logic was compelling. From the depths of my travelling bag, I disinterred a field glass. I handed it to Terry.

"Remember," I reminded, "a New Jersey license is as good as a passport. And we'd better not stop anything running less than forty miles an hour.

"From past observation, we'll keep busy enough at that."

"Very well, Yer Honor." Terry saluted comically.

The first car to feel the spring of the trap bore a New York license.

"Ye are under arrist for shpadin'," Terry informed the chauffeur.

A man on the rear seat bent forward smiling. He consulted a bill fold of unusual promise.

"My friend," he stated, "we are in a great hurry. We plead guilty. How much do we owe you?"

Terry and I held council. I came forward.

"You are fined five dollars and costs," I announced. Seven dollars and fifty cents, total."

He proffered a crisp ten dollar bill. "Good day, gentlemen," he bade us genially, and made no reference to his change.

"Pretty soft, Terry, pretty soft, eh, what?" I chortled.

"That wan was, yis," Terry admitted. "They won't all be in a hurry, though."

The next two cars bore Pennsylvania licenses. After some argument, and reference to the Revised Statutes, we collected from each seven dollars and fifty cents. We might have gotten more, but the motorists seemed pretty good fellows.

Then came the fourth car; in it a tartar. New York should have been ashamed of him.

"Outrageous," he blustered when Terry informed him of the charge.