Part 68

"That's a lie! She's a friend of mine, and she merely said, 'Good evening.'"

The copper laughed derisively, and the girl turned a cynical young-old face to Jarvis.

"Much obliged, kid, but it ain't no use. He's got me spotted."

"If you arrest her, you must arrest me."

"I got nottin' on you."

"Yes, you have. I said 'Good evening' to her, just what she said to me."

"Get the hell out of here, and don't give me none of your lip, or I'll run you in. Come along!" the policeman ordered, and he and the girl started on toward Jefferson Market. Jarvis marched beside them. When they turned in at the door where prisoners are entered, the policeman again ordered Jarvis off.

"Go round in front if you're crazy to be in on this," he said.

Jarvis hurried round to the front door and went in. The courtroom was packed. He had trouble in finding a seat, but he finally got into the front row, just behind the rail that divides the dock from the spectators. One half of the room was full of swine--fat, blowse-necked Jewish men, lawyers, cadets, owners of houses--all the low breeds who fatten off the degradation of women. Their business was to pay the fines or go bail.

The other half of the room, to Jarvis's horror, was full of young boys and girls, some almost children, there out of curiosity. A goodly number of street walkers sat at the back. It was their habit to come into court to see what judge was sitting. If it was one who levied strict fines, or was prone to send girls up to Bedford, they spent the evening there, instead of on the streets.

The first case called, after Jarvis's entrance, was that of the keeper of a disorderly house. She was horrible. He felt she ought to be branded in some way, so that she and her vile trade would be known wherever she went. A man went her bail, and she flounced out in a cloud of patchouli.

Two coloured girls were brought in, and sent up for thirty days. Then several old women, the kind of human travesties Jarvis had seen sleeping on the benches, were marched before the judge, who called them all by name.

"Well, Annie," he said to one of them, "you haven't been here for some weeks. How did it happen this time?"

"I've been a-walkin' all day, your honour. I guess I fell asleep in the doorway."

"You've been pretty good lately. I'll let you off easy. Fine, one dollar."

"Oh, thanks, your honour." She was led off, and Jarvis sickened at the sight.

A series of young girls followed, cheaply modish, with their willow plumes and their vanity bags. Some cheerful, some cynical, some defiant. One slip of a thing heard her sentence, looked up in the judge's face, and laughed. Jarvis knew that never, while he lived, would he forget that girl's laugh. It was into the face of our whole hideous Society that she hurled that bitter laugh.

Then his girl was brought in. He saw her clearly for the first time. A thin, wizened little face, framed in curly red hair, with bright, birdlike eyes. Her thin, flat child's figure was outlined in a tight, black satin dress, with a red collar and sash. Her quick glance darted to him, and she smiled. The policeman made his charge. The judge glanced at her.

"Anything to say for yourself?"

She shook her head wearily. Jarvis was out of his seat before he thought.

"I have something to say for her. I am the man she was supposed to have approached."

"Silence in the courtroom," said the judge, sternly.

"She didn't say one word to me, except 'Good evening,'" shouted Jarvis.

"Is that the man?" the judge asked the officer.

"Yes. He's made a lot of trouble, too, trying to make me arrest him."

"If you have any evidence to give in this case, come to the front and be sworn in."

Jarvis jumped the railing and stood before him. The oath was administered.

"Now, tell me, briefly, what the girl said to you."