“But the record certainly doesn’t show he’s responsible.”

Mr. Matson winked. “You have to read between the lines.”

He ushered us into the courtroom, where several groups of parents and teenage children were waiting.

“I’ll have Duff taken care of in a hurry,” he assured us, guiding me to a seat in a row ahead of the others. “You’ll be home in plenty of time for lunch.” Then he opened a gate in the railing and led Duff to a seat at a front table. An elderly bailiff looked up questioningly, but he didn’t protest.

Shortly thereafter the judge came out. No one stood up. I was tempted to do so to gain a few points for Duff, but Judge Sinclair didn’t seem to be paying any attention to us. He sat down and rearranged some papers on his desk and repositioned two small American flags, then looked over and nodded to the bailiff. The bailiff arose and summoned Duff.

Duff and Mr. Matson went forward and stood in front of the judge while the bailiff read the charges. Then Mr. Matson announced that Duff was pleading guilty and the judge studied some papers for a couple of minutes. Then he said, “Referred to probation,” and the bailiff called another name.

Smiling, Mr. Matson ushered Duff through the gate and I got up and followed them. At the rear of the courtroom a toothless old woman who looked like a habitual visitor reached out and caught my sleeve.

“He ain’t our regular judge, you know,” she whispered.

“Our regular judge is out of town. This fella was sent in from someplace. You’re lucky. Our regular judge would’ve locked your boy up.”

I pulled away and joined Duff and Mr. Matson in the corridor. “What does the probation involve?” I asked.

“They’re supposed to check on Duff and make recommendations before the judge hands down a sentence.”

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be anything like that.”

“It won’t be a jail sentence. The judge will likely order Duff to report to the probation officer once a month or so for a while. I’ll arrange to have it on Saturday mornings, if you like.”

“And that’s all there is to it?”

“That’s all.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Matson. Can I give you a check?”

He smiled. “No, you’ll be billed.”

“But I’d just as soon pay you now, if your fee isn’t too high.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll find it excessive. And I’d prefer it this way, if you don’t mind. If you gave me a check, I’d probably just lose it. I’m very careless.” He took my hand. “I hope we meet again, Mrs. Caine, under other circumstances.”

I certainly didn’t share that hope but I nodded. He shook Duff’s hand, then bowed slightly to both of us.