Now they could hear the Clerk, beyond the door, calling the Italian boy into court. They would have to go out in a few minutes. “Forget the story,” he told her. “Just pull your dress down some and wipe some of that shit off your eyes. You look like hell.”

“I don’t want you on the case, Moses,” said Mrs. Brown.

“Well, you got me,” said Jimmy. “You got me whether you want me or not.” Jimmy paused, put his pipe in his coat pocket, and then said: “And my name is Mr. Mulligan!”

The woman did not say anything more. She settled her weight in the chair and made it creak.

“Now let’s get in there,” said Jimmy.

II

THE JUDGE WAS IN HIS MONDAY MORNING MOOD. He was very ready to be angry at almost anyone. He glared at the Court Clerk as the bald, seemingly consumptive man called out the names of six defendants who had defaulted. He glared at the group of drunks and addicts who huddled against the steel net of the prisoners’ cage, gazing toward the open courtroom as if expecting mercy from the rows of concerned parties and spectators who sat in the hot place. Judge Bloom looked as though he wanted very badly to spit. There would be no mercy this Monday morning and the prisoners all knew it.

“Willie Smith! Willie Smith! Come into Court!” the Clerk barked.

Willie Smith slowly shuffled out of the prisoners’ cage and up to the dirty stone wall, which kept all but his head and neck and shoulders concealed from the people in the musty courtroom.

From the bench the Judge looked down at the hung-over Smith.

“You know, I ain’t never seen him sitting down in that chair,” Jimmy said to one of the old men who came to court to see the daily procession, filling up the second row of benches, directly behind those reserved for court-appointed lawyers. There were at least twelve of these old men, looking almost semi-professional in faded gray or blue or black suits with shiny knees and elbows. They liked to come and watch the fun. “Watch old Bloom give it to this nigger,” the same old man leaned over and said into Jimmy Mulligan’s ear. Jimmy nodded without looking back at him. And after a few seconds he wiped his ear with his hand, also without looking back.

The Clerk read the charges: Drunkenness, Loitering, Disorderly Conduct.

“You want a lawyer, Willie?” the Judge asked him. Judge Bloom was now walking back and forth behind his bench, his arms gravely folded behind his back, his belly very close to pregnancy beneath his black robe. “The Supreme Court says I have to give you a lawyer. You want one?”

“No sir,” the hungover Smith said, very obsequiously.

“Well, what’s your trouble?”

“Nothing.”

“You haven’t missed a Monday here in months.”

“Yes sir.”