his memory as to the minimum penalty for larceny or whatever it is.
And the way the Assistant District Attorney looks at you! And the
bailiffs too. But put up a fight and see what happens. The whole
blamed works sits up and takes notice. The judge looks over his
spectacles and says to himself, "by gosh, he's a tough lookin' bird,
that guy is;" the District Attorney goes around tellin' everybody in
a whisper that you're a desperate character; the clerk of the court,
the stenographer and all the bailiffs sort of wake up and act busy;
the men waiting to be examined for jobs on the jury begin to fidget
and wonder whether the judge is a "crab" or a nice, decent feller
what'll let 'em off when they tell him they got sickness in the
family, and all of 'em ha tin' you worse than poison because you
didn't plead guilty.

He was remanded for trial within two weeks after his arrest. The
court, finding him penniless, announced he would appoint counsel to
defend him. Whereupon Smilk sauntered back to the Tombs with a light
heart, confident that his sojourn there would be brief and that
March at the very latest would see him snugly settled in his
rent-free, food-free, landlordless home on the Hudson, entertainment
for man and beast provided without discrimination, crime no object.

First of all, his lawyer unexpectedly got a job to represent a shady
lady in a sensational breach of promise suit that drew weekly
postponements over a period of five months and finally died a
natural death out of court sometime in June.

This resulted in his lawyer becoming so affluent that it wasn't
necessary for him to bother with Cassius, so he withdrew from the
case. After some delay, another lawyer was appointed to defend him