to such things. 'Absurd,' he thought--'Lumbago! Just where they ought
to be covered!' Then the officer and gentleman stirred in him, and he
added to himself: 'Still, there must be some distinction made!' The
little soldier's visage had once perhaps been tanned, but was now the
colour of dark dough; his large brown eyes with white showing below the
iris, as so often in the eyes of very nervous people--wandered from face
to face, of judge, counsel, jury, and public. There were hollows in his
cheeks, his dark hair looked damp; around his neck he wore a bandage.
The commercial traveller on Mr. Bosengate's left turned, and whispered:
"Felo de se! My hat! what a guy!" Mr. Bosengate pretended not to
hear--he could not bear that fellow!--and slowly wrote on a bit of paper:
"Owen Lewis." Welsh! Well, he looked it--not at all an English face.
Attempted suicide--not at all an English crime! Suicide implied
surrender, a putting-up of hands to Fate--to say nothing of the religious
aspect of the matter. And suicide in khaki seemed to Mr. Bosengate
particularly abhorrent; like turning tail in face of the enemy; almost
meriting the fate of a deserter. He looked at the prisoner, trying not
to give way to this prejudice. And the prisoner seemed to look at him,
though this, perhaps, was fancy.

The Counsel for the prosecution, a little, alert, grey, decided man,
above military age, began detailing the circumstances of the crime. Mr.
Bosengate, though not particularly sensitive to atmosphere, could
perceive a sort of current running through the Court. It was as if jury
and public were thinking rhythmically in obedience to the same
unexpressed prejudice of which he himself was conscious. Even the
Caesar-like pale face up there, presiding, seemed in its ironic serenity
responding to that current.

"Gentlemen of the jury, before I call my evidence, I direct your
attention to the bandage the accused is still wearing. He gave himself
this wound with his Army razor, adding, if I may say so, insult to the
injury he was inflicting on his country. He pleads not guilty; and
before the magistrates he said that absence from his wife was preying on
his mind"--the advocate's close lips widened--"Well, gentlemen, if such
an excuse is to weigh with us in these days, I'm sure I don't know what's
to happen to the Empire."

'No, by George!' thought Mr. Bosengate.

The evidence of the first witness, a room-mate who had caught the
prisone