Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket takes its place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket-holders to the general kitchen.
Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put us at our ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently will stand no nonsense.

Observe, if you please, that he has lost his right hand, and that a formidable iron hook replaces it.

Many a time has that hook been serviceable; if it could speak, many tales would it tell of victories won, of rows quelled, and of blood spilled.
We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the local police-court.

Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes as prisoner, and at other times as witness.

When the police had been required to supplement the power of his iron hand in quelling the many free fights, he appeared sometimes in the dual capacity of prisoner and prosecutor.
We know that he retains his position because of his strength and the unscrupulous way in which he uses it.