NO DEFENCE.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 10580, 8 October 1910, Page 2 (Supplement)

NO DEFENCE.

(By Melville Davisson Post.)

There was no sun. The city pat like a ghost in a shioud of dirty yellow fog. This fog entered the courtroom. Tho gas jets were lighted. The air, (heated by these jets, was tainted with" tho stench of the janitor's mop [t was early m the morning. The judge, a number of pusoneis who had been brought ovei the aiched bridge horn the gaol, the officials of the Court, and a little group of young attorneys, await, nig assignments to defend those without counsel, were alone in the courtroom. There was an atmosphere of silence. The whispering of the attorneys, the scratching of the clerk's pen, the words of the judge, the responser of the prisoners, their breathing, the Jmovmg of their feet, the cieakmg of their chairs as they arose and as they leseated themselves, were all sounds detached and audible m this silence. There was heie no one of those things that warm and color life. The heat of passion, moving men to violence, the love of adventuie, the lust of gam; the lights, the sounds, the words, the gestures —the infinite stimuli that had l urged these men against the law —wcie absent. There was hero only tho piesence of penalty. When the clerk called tho State veisus Johnson a young man aro"=G Jfrom the line of seated prisoners. Judging by his dress, tho mail might havo been a' hank clerk. Ho got up slowly and stood with his chin lifted,- looking at tho judge. - There was no interest m Ins face. There was mits stead api ofound unconcern. His white, nimblei hands, always moving, fingered his coatpockets. It 1 was a habit rather ( than a nervous gesture. . The resignation in the man's face| in the lift of his head, in the pose of his figure, precluded anxiety. Ho knew exactly wliat nas going to happen. , The judge did not look up. IHe inquired, whethei the prisoner "was represented by counsel, and being told that ho "was -not appointed onej of *tho attorneys to defend/him. He continued, addressing the attorney: * j ; "If you wish to talk with the prisoner you, can take him into the! jury room, I will have a page before I adjourn, bo ready to plead to the indictment." ' V; The attorney beckoned to tho pnso--ner and the two of them wenfinto thej iury room. The attorney sat d6jtvn I 'ana\ indicated a neighboring,chair with !his hand - [_ i" * t $ ' Well," he said, "what is it—not^ gmitj °" ;'- ..%. •..« The prisoner did not at once' reply;' lie went over to ike window ah 1 ( stood n moment, looking idly x throi gh" the dirt\ window-panes. Then lie answeri<d ' !> i "I don't caie," he said I The attorney was astonished. "Do ion want to go to the penitentiary sl " Tho man turned sharplv on Ins. heel. ' J\o," he said. "I don't want to go, nobody wants to go. Do yoii know what it's like down there 0 . . It's hell down there." "Then "we have got to get busy." The prisoner shrugged- his- shoulders. The flash of energy, moving hiiii when he spoke of the penitentiary, was past-:-he was again listless. "Come," said the attorney, "we must tell the judge something." "You ran tell him the truth if you want to," replied the prisoner. "Well," said the "cut along | with the story. If there's anything in I it that, will do any good I'll put it up j to the judge." ' .' The prisoner again shrugged his \ shoulders.

"It's no use,"_he said. The attorney was beginning to be annoyed. : _ . r,, "How do you know it's no use.-' The prisoner sat down iira ehair; he put his nervous white hands firmly on his knees. He looked the attorney in the face; a bitter resolution entered his

voice. '•I know it very well, 7 ' he said; "when you hear the story you'll know it too. 'Listen: I'm what the police call a 'dip'—that is, a pickpocket; and I'm a good one —the cops never pick me up | on a job. I know mv business." He suddenly flashed his white, nimble -hands. "'I can ye. into a jamb at a railroad station and get a pocketbook whenever I want to, or I can go into a crowd any time and get a watch. There's no flv cop that can pinch me at it; they have all bad a trj. I pass them all up. Of course the police know I do it. You can't keep them from knowing that. But they never caught me at a job; they never could catch me." "They seem to have caught you this time," said the attorney. " •' , "They—the police!" The prisoner, made a contemptuous gesture. "It was something bigger than the police. Did you ever hear of Scott, the man who invented the method of sawing through an iron bar with silk thread and emery dust? No? Well, when it- came to brains he had us all "trimmed. Scottunderstood it. He used to say: .'Boys, it's not the police. You always have' a | chance against the police, but wlieu that other Thing gets in the game you I haven't got a ghost of a chance.' " ,The- attorney was puzzled. "I don't understand," he said. "Never mind," replied the prisoner; '-'you'll \inderstand in a minute." . - - %-He stopped and sat a, moment with the -muscles of his mouth drawn, his teeth together; then-lie continued: - {'l thought Scott -was talking rot. lilaughed. - 'AH right, .young*man,' he' said, 'yoiijre too little yet for the Thing Ito "notice you; but just you wait until , you attract its attention! That Thing's on-some" big job'; it has no time for vou .until' you begin to annoy it. Then look' 'oiiti .Mind, it won't land you with a clean-upper cut. That's not its metho'd ;-it"s way is to do you with a lot of little, trivial, picayune tricks that you will mistake for a run of hard luck. •It's like this: it's like an ant crawling over a- man's- hand when he's busy; for a.good while he doesn't notice it, but when he does he knocks it off into the fire. ." . * Only there's this difference: a, man, when he finally did notice it, would brush that ant. off into the fire at once; .but this Thing takes its finger and heads the ant off here, and it heads it "off there, and it steers it and turns it until "it drops off into the .fire of itself; and every one of those turns and twists and head-offs that ant thinks is an accident.' " He "paused a moment, his slender -fin'gers tightening on his knees. "I thought Scott was giving me a line of hot air. 'Everybody has luck,' I Said. 'Sure they do,' said Scott, 'but this Thing's not luck—it's intention. Luck's a thing that comes by, chance, "but there's no chance about this Thing. Luck's an accident here and an accident there, without any connection; but this Thing's a system.' " ' "What has all this got to do with your case?" asked the attorney. "I'm coming to that," replied the prisoner. "Listen: It was in the afternoon; the sun had brought everybody out. The snow was melting and the gutters were running full of dirty slush, but the sidewalks were dry and warm. I was coming along tho street. I i wasn't out for business. I wasn't looking for anything. Finally I hit a crowd on the corner. A fakir had a piece o F black carpet laid along the sidewalk, I and he was'selling a mechanical toj two little dummy figures. He'd make a speech about the wonders of science, then he'd put his mechanical toy down on tliis carpet, and the two little figures would begin to dance, and they'd keep on dancing—they'd dance for ever. The crowd was wild. The faker was selling this "toy* for twenty-five cents, put up in a neat box with instructions, and they were going liko gold dollars. "It took mo a minute to get on to his game. There was a tiny black thread stretched along this carpet, and out" at tho other end —on the edge of the crowd —a hobo with his hands in his pockets was working the thread. The faker just hooked his toy on to this thread, and of course it would dance until the hobo's elbow wore out. "I .was standing there watching this hunch of suckers take the hook when, .out" in the crowd, I noticed a big,man with his hat on the back of his head, a cigar in his mouth, a diamond in his shirt-front, and a gold watch chain, as thick as your little finger, stretched across his waistcoat. Tho thing was like ,'an invitation. I didn't have a pair of nippers on me, so I didn't go after the diamond, but I moved out into the crowd and lifted the watch. I dropped it into my pocket, edged out of the crowd, and sauntered on up the street toward home. The big man never missed the watch; he was standing there spread out, with the cigar in his mouth, when I passed out of sight. "I went on. As I turned into the street on which I live I met a policeman. I knew him; he was a friend of mine. " 'Hello, Johnson,' he said, 'I was looking for you.' " 'What do you want with me?' I said. <•

" 'Well,' he said, 'I guess'l've got to take you along to the station-house.' "I was astonished, hut I kept my nerve. " 'Now, look here, Scally,' I said, 'you haven't got any charge against me.'

" 'I know it,' he said. "I was more astonished now. " 'Then what kind'of a bluff are you running ?' I said. " 'l'm not running a bluff,' he said; 'the chief- has just issued an order for us to. round-up all the'old suspects and bring them down to- the stationhouse.' . , ' "I understood it then. Whenever a new chief has nothing else to do he takes the census. I tried to 1 get off. ' " 'Now, look here, Scally,' I said, 'what's the use of taking me down there?' " 'No use,' he said. ' ■> " 'Then pass me up, old man.' „ ."'Can't do it, Johnson,' he said; 'you're on my list and I've got to account for you. If you didn't show up they'd say I tipped you 'off.' "Then ho tried to smooth it "over.

"'They've got nothing against you; they'll turn you loose" in an hour.' ""'I know that,' I said, 'but I'm tired of the same old questions, and the same old v Bertillon measurements, and all that rot—ain't there some way round ?' , "He shook his head. "'Not this time; you're located in my district.' I've got to produce -yon.' i '"l"saw it vas no use, so I tried to get' him to permit me to go into my house before \ we, started—so I could get rid „of the watch mmy pocket. It was diily a .few doors farther on. I gave him a good excuse and he would have done it, but, Just, then a mounted sergeant came along: He 'know' us, and we had to start for the station-house. ."We /went out to tfio corner and turri&d down the street that I had justcome, up.. We walked along until we apprpached .the fakir and his bunch of -,suckers.-.Jhen, just as -we were com-ing.iip"'to'£hem,'-thathig.man out in the crowd suddenly missed' his ' watch, ', grabbed 4he man- who was standing next 'tojliim'sand began ; to holler. There was mix-iip, and - some bne'-turned .irk-tlie^patrol "alarm.' The wagon came •in r aTiurry. " They'hustled the big fellow 3 he had nailed into it 'jusfr r a's we came up'. And Scally said to* me: .

" 'lt's a mile to the station-house; let's ride.' " The prisoner stopped. He got up" and went over to the window. The fog lying on the city had deepened. The .million lights struggling in it seemed about to be extinguished. There was a knocking on the door. The attorney replied. "All right," he said; "in a minute." Then he turned toward the prisoner leaning on the sill, looking put over the submerged city. "Well," ho said. The prisoner continued: "We got in. . . There's not much more. . . I had to get rid of thri watch. The dirty slush was running deep in the gutters. I determined on a plan. As I got out of the wagon .> would make a mis-step, put my right foot into the slush and let the watch slip down the leg of my trousers. I worked the watch out of my pocket | into mv hand, ovd when we stopped I | stepped down, trampled, lost rny bal-

ancc; my right foot went down into the slush., I* caught the rail with my left hnnd, leaned back and let go of the watch.

"The next minute I knew that I was all in. In catching the band of my trousers between my thumb and.finger I caught also the band of my undergarment, and the watch was in my shoe!"