ter with care, and while it is extremely probable that this trial was shrewdly procured by Gilmore, yet it has been so skilfully handled that no fraudulent proceeding could be shown on the part of Bartlett, although I am quite certain of his villainy.”
The sheriff rubbed his hands with the bland unction of a Hebrew at a “fire sale.” “Jeb,” he drawled, “I guess you 're it. I guess the thing is all over but the shouting.”
“Well,” responded the prosecutor, “I judge there are others. How about the lamented Jenkins, erstwhile representative of the sheriff of McDowell? Is the young man Absalom safe?”
A faint ripple of merriment spread over the fat face of the sheriff. “Boys,” he mused, “it was a keen flim-flam. Let us quietly disperse, and endeavor to live it down.” Then he added wearily. “It may be good to be good, but it is safer to be smooth.”
The judge arose. “Mr. Gilmore has been tried and acquitted,” he observed. “The record is complete. He cannot be held again to answer for this crime, even though he be
