The audience now had the appearance of one watching a juggler perform a
trick. Bud grasped the hat in one hand, turned back the brim, inserted
the point of the knife between the hat lining and the hat itself and
drew out a yellow envelope stained with dirt and perspiration.
"Here it is. I ain't opened it, and what's more, they didn't find it
when they searched me;" and he looked again toward the deputies.
The Judge leaned forward in his seat and said:
"Hand me the letter."
The letter was passed up by the court-crier, every eye following it. His
Honor examined the envelope, and, beckoning to Halliday, said:
"Is this your letter?"
Halliday stepped to the side of the Judge, fingered the letter closely,
and said: "Looks like my writin'."
"Open it and see."
Halliday broke the seal with his thumb-nail, and took out half a sheet
of note-paper closely written on one side, wrapped about a small
picture-card.
"Yes, it's my letter;" and he glanced sheepishly around the room and
hung his head, his face scarlet.
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