was the unspeakable brutality of the tone, even more than the quality
of the justice, or the laughter of the audience that stung our souls out
of all reason. When we were dismissed--to the tune of twenty-three
pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence--we waited for Pallant to join us,
while we listened to the next case--one of driving without a licence.
Ollyett with an eye to his evening paper, had already taken very full
notes of our own, but we did not wish to seem prejudiced.

'It's all right,' said the reporter of the local paper soothingly. 'We
never report Sir Thomas _in extenso_. Only the fines and charges.'

'Oh, thank you,' Ollyett replied, and I heard him ask who every one in
court might be. The local reporter was very communicative.

The new victim, a large, flaxen-haired man in somewhat striking
clothes, to which Sir Thomas, now thoroughly warmed, drew public
attention, said that he had left his licence at home. Sir Thomas asked
him if he expected the police to go to his home address at Jerusalem to
find it for him; and the court roared. Nor did Sir Thomas approve of the
man's name, but insisted on calling him 'Mr. Masquerader,' and every
time he did so, all his people shouted. Evidently this was their
established _auto-da-fe_.

'He didn't summons me--because I'm in the House, I suppose. I think I
shall have to ask a Question,' said Pallant, reappearing at the close
of the case.

'I think _I_ shall have to give it a little publicity too,' said
Woodhouse. 'We can't have this kind of thing going on, you know.' His
face was set and quite white. Pallant's, on the other hand, was black,
and I know that my very stomach had turned with rage. Ollyett was dum.

'Well, let's have lunch,' Woodhouse said at last. 'Then we can get away
before the show breaks up.'

We drew Ollyett from the arms of the local reporter, crossed the Market
Square to the Red Lion and found Sir Thomas's 'Mr. Masquerader' just
sitting down to beer, beef and pickles.

'Ah!' said he, in a large voice. 'Companions in misfortune. Won't you
gentlemen join me?'

'Delighted,' said Woodhouse. 'What did you get?'

'I haven't decided. It might make a good turn, but--the public aren't
educated up to it yet. It's beyond 'em. If it wasn't, that red dub on
the Bench would be worth fifty a week.'

'Where?' said Woodhouse. The man looked at him with unaffected surprise.

'At any one of My places,' he replied. 'But perhaps you live here?'

'Good hea