I had already begun to suspect that the ugly man was none other than an officer of the law, and visions of myself locked up in jail as a possible accomplice, although innocent of wrong-doing, hovered in my mind.

Toby, giving every indication of guilt, slouched along beside his captor, occasionally glancing shamefacedly over his shoulder.
We were now nearing a police station, and our companion, for the first time showing any sign of personal interest, inquired if we had a lawyer.

On receiving a negative reply, the officer strongly recommended our immediately retaining counsel in the person of one Gottlieb, who could be found across the street from the police station and whose precise whereabout were made obvious by means of a large sign about six feet by three and one-half in size, reading as follows: ABRAHAM GOTTLIEB'S LAW OFFICE NOTARY DEEDS RENTS COLLECTED BAIL BONDS INSURANCE GENERAL ADVICE Without giving Toby time for consideration the officer led us across the street and into the stuffy little den occupied by the lawyer.
"Here's the gent I told you of," said he, nodding in the direction of a hawk-faced little man smoking a vile cigar, who was sitting with his feet upon a table.

"I'll leave you alone," he added, and sauntering across the threshold, took his stand in front of the window outside.
"Howdy," remarked Gottlieb, without arising or removing his cigar.
"Mike tells me you're charged with obtaining money by false pretences." "What!" gasped Toby, grasping the table for support.

"False pretences!" "Flying a bit of bad paper, eh?
Come now, didn't you cash a check on the Cotton Exchange Bank for about six hundred dollars when there was only fifteen on deposit?
Don't try to bluff me.