"Hey—h'm!" spluttered the judge, taken off his balance. "Your knife?"
"Precisely," insisted Frank.
"Why—how—who says I've got your knife?" stammered the judge, growing redder in the face than usual.
"Mr. Dobbins, here, informs me that he does,"' replied Frank.
"That's so," echoed Dobbins; "inasmuch as you showed it to me this morning."
"Well, if I have," observed the judge, bracing up a little, "I hold it as evidence of a crime. As an emissary of the law"
"That's the right word, judge," grinned Dobbins—"'emissary' fits. It don't go in this instance, though. The evidence is all on Frank's side, as I have found out. He was in bed when that smashup took place, so I reckon I won't go into any plot to ruin the character of an honest boy, this time."
Judge Roseberry gave up the knife reluctantly and felt pretty sheepish in the act, for his cronies were winking and chuckling over his discomfiture.
"I thank you very much for what you have done for me, Mr. Dobbins," said Frank as they left the spot.
"That's all right, boy," replied Dobbins heartily; "and if these varmints make you any more threats,
