He sat up, and found himself the centre of a little crowd. There was
Officer Keating, dishevelled but intact; three other policemen, one of
whom was kneeling by his side with a small bottle in his hand; and, in
the grip of the two were standing two youths.

One was Otto the Sausage; the other was Rabbit Butler.

The kneeling policeman was proffering the bottle once more. Mr. Buffin
snatched at it. He felt that it was just what at that moment he needed
most.

* * * * *

He did what he could. The magistrate asked for his evidence. He said he
had none. He said he thought there must be some mistake. With a twisted
smile in the direction of the prisoners, he said that he did not
remember having seen either of them at the combat. He didn't believe
they were there at all. He didn't believe they were capable of such a
thing. If there was one man who was less likely to assault a policeman
than Otto the Sausage, it was Rabbit Butler. The Bench reminded him
that both these innocents had actually been discovered in Officer
Keating's grasp. Mr. Buffin smiled a harassed smile, and wiped a drop
of perspiration from his brow.

Officer Keating was enthusiastic. He described the affair from start to
finish. But for Mr. Buffin he would have been killed. But for Mr.
Buffin there would have been no prisoners in court that day. The world
was full of men with more or less golden hearts, but there was only one
Mr. Buffin. Might he shake hands with Mr. Buffin?