ike a three-parts deflated football. Looked as if he'd been poured on
to his seat out of a jug and jellified there. There was old Bright, the
girl's father, smouldering like inside the door of a banked-up furnace;
smouldering like if you touched him he'd burst out into roaring flame
and sparks. There was Mr. Iscariot Twyning with his face like a stab--in
the back--and his mouth on his face like a scar. There was this
solicitor chap next him, with his hump, with his hair like a mane, and a
head like a house, and a mouth like a cave. He'd a great big red tongue,
about a yard long, like a retriever's, and a great long forefinger with
about five joints in it that he waggled when he was cross-examining and
shot out when he was incriminating like the front nine inches of a
snake.

"That chap! When he was in the full cry and ecstasy of his hunt after
Sabre, the perspiration streamed down his face like running oil, and
he'd flap his great red tongue around his jaws and mop his streaming
face and chuck away his streaming mane; and all the time he'd be
stooping down to Twyning, and while he was stooping and Twyning
prompting him with the venom pricking and bursting in the corners of his
mouth, all the time he was stooping this chap would leave that great
forefinger waggling away at Sabre, and Sabre clutching the box, and his
face in a knot, and his throat in a lump and choking out, 'Look here--.
Look here--'

"I tell you, old man ... I tell you....

"Sabre, when they started to get at it, was sitting on the front bench
braced up forwards and staring towards what he was hearing like a man
watching his brother balancing across a narrow plank stretched over a
crater. He had his hands on the crook of his old stick and he was
working at the crook as if he was trying to tear it off. I wonder he
didn't, the way he was straining at it. And every now and then while
Humpo was leading on the witnesses, and when Sabre saw what they were
putting up against him, he'd half start to his feet and open his mouth
and once or twice let fly that frightful 'Look here--' of his; and old
Buddha would give him, 'Be silent, sir!' and he'd drop back like a man
with a hit in the face and sit there swallowing and press his throat.

"I tell you....

"I was standing right across the court at right angles to him. I was
wedged tight. Scarcely breathe, let alone move. I wrote on a bit of
paper to Sabre that I was here and let him get up and ask for me; and I