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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"


"I believe there is a jail back there," whispered the slim culprit, a
quaver in her voice. She pointed down the long, narrow corridor at
the end of which loomed a rather sinister looking door with thick
bolt-heads studding its surface.
An instant later they were ushered into a fair-sized room on the left
of the hall, where they were commanded to sit down. A lot of chairs
stood about the room, filling it to the farthest corners, while at
the extreme end was the Judge's bench.
"I insist on being permitted to telephone to friends--to my legal
advisors,--"began Miss Guile, with praiseworthy firmness, only to be
silenced by the attendant, who whispered shrilly that a trial was in
progress, couldn't she see?
Two dejected young men were standing before the Judge, flanked by
three _sergents de ville_. Robin and Miss Guile stared wide-eyed
at their fellow criminals and tried to catch the low words spoken by
the fat Magistrate. Once more they were ordered to sit down, this
time not quite so politely, and they took seats in the darkest corner
of the room, as far removed from justice as possible under the
circumstances.


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