Stone counted. Standing before the bench, looking at the floor and shifting their weight from one foot to the other, were twenty-four Chinese men, all neatly dressed in business suits. He took a seat down front and listened, curious. The men had been gambling in the basement of a restaurant in Chinatown, only a few blocks away, and an old lady next door had turned them in. Their Anglo lawyer, in unctuous tones, was explaining to the somewhat amused judge that his clients were all respected members of the community, businessmen out for an evening of diversion. They were not criminals, not really, and were very sorry to have disturbed the old woman’s sleep. The judge released the men on their own recognizance.

Stone got up, introduced himself to the bailiff at the door to the holding cells, and, shortly, Herbert Van Fleet appeared, in handcuffs. Stone sat him down in one of the little rooms set aside for consultation with attorneys. “All right, Herb, tell me exactly what happened.”

Van Fleet sighed. “I was at the Tribeca Grill, having a drink, and I got to talking to this girl. I offered her a ride home—she said she lived in the West Village—and, on the way, we were getting sort of friendly, and—”

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘getting sort of friendly’?”

“We were holding hands, and she was sitting close to me. We stopped at a traffic light on Sixth Avenue, and we kissed.”

“Did you put your hands between her legs or on her breasts?”

“Yes, on her breasts, and she seemed to like that. It was when I put my hand down the front of her dress that she became difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“She started screaming at me. I didn’t realize how drunk she was until that moment. She started to get out of the van, and I tried to persuade her to calm down, and then she started screaming for help.”

“Were you fighting?”

“I had hold of her wrists and was talking to her, trying to get her to calm down, when a police car pulled up alongside us at the light, and she jumped out of the van and started screaming hysterically about how I had tried to rape her.”

“Did you ever get your hand on her breast—inside her dress, I mean?”

“Yes, but just for a minute.”

“Herbert, is that all that happened? Is there any more? I have to know if I’m going to be able to give you a proper defense.”

“I swear to you, that was all there was to it. If the police car hadn’t just happened to show up, it would have been all over in a minute. She would either have calmed down, or she would have gotten out of the van. This whole thing about attempted rape is completely crazy. Oh, I forgot, the policemen gave me a breath test—made me blow up one of those balloons.”