The Confessions of Artemas Quibble | Page 8

good-natured-looking person, of the

sort who is never supposed to have done harm to anybody. Not long
before he had enjoyed a salary of fourteen dollars per week, but having
overslept several times running he had been discharged for absence
from rehearsals. He had reached the limit of his resources about the
time of my arrival in the city and had been in a most lugubrious frame
of mind when I first had the honor of his acquaintance. Suddenly,
however, he appeared one day with a large roll of bills and entered
upon a period of lubrication and open-handed hospitality, in which we
all participated. During this season of good cheer, as Toby and I were
strolling down Broadway one afternoon, an ugly looking man who had
been following us stepped forward and, touching my friend on the
shoulder, said gruffly:
"The captain wants to see you."
The uttering of these cryptic syllables produced a most extraordinary
effect upon my companion, for he turned deadly pale and the
perspiration collected in beads upon his temples, while he commenced
to wring his hands and bemoan his ill fortune.
"What is the trouble?" I inquired in great solicitude.
The belligerent stranger, however, pushing between us, grasped Toby
firmly by the arm and marched him across the street, while I trailed
behind in the nature of a rear guard. 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. I know your sort.
Lucky if you don't get ten years."
"Save me!" wailed Toby. "Yes, I did cash a check, come to think of it,
for that amount, but I had no idea my account had run so low."
Mr. Gottlieb spat into a sawdust box under the table and winked with
great deliberation.
"How much have you got left?" he inquired indifferently.
Tony delved into his breeches and with trembling hands produced a roll
of bills still of some dignity. Gottlieb stretched forth a claw, took them,
placed them in his own pocket, and then swung his feet to the floor
with alacrity.
"Come on, my lads," he exclaimed, "and I'll show you how we get the
sinners off! All right, Mike." And he led the way across the street and
into the station-house, where poor Toby was searched and his pedigree

taken down by the clerk. It being at this time only about eleven in the
morning we were then conducted to the nearest police court, where we
found in attendance the unfortunate hotel keeper who had so unwisely
honored Toby's check.
"You rascal!" he shouted, struggling to reach my unfortunate friend.
"I'll show you how to take other people's money! I'll put you where you
belong!" But the officers haled him back and he was forced to restrain
himself until the could tell his story to the judge. This, it so happened,
was not to be for several hours, and during this interval Gottlieb
mysteriously vanished and as mysteriously reappeared. It was half after
three before the judge announced that he would take up Toby's case.
Now, the judge looked even more of a rascal than did Gottlieb, which
was paying his Honor