“Now, policeman, I am going to ask you a question; but pray don’t answer it till you are told to do so, because my learned friend may object to it.”

Rodwell sprang to his feet and objected at once.

“What is the question?” asked the Marquis.  “We must hear what the question is before I can rule as to your objection, Mr. Rodwell.”

This was a good one for Mr. Rodwell, and made him colour up to his eyebrows, especially as I looked at him and smiled.

“The question, my lord,” said I, “is a very simple one:  Did not Mr. Baron Martin say, when applied to for bail, that there was not a rag of a case against the prisoner?”

“This is monstrous!” said the learned stickler for forms and ceremonies—­“monstrous!  Never heard of such a thing!”

It might have been monstrous, but it gave me an excellent grievance with the jury, even if the Marquis did not see his way to allow the question; and a grievance is worth something, if you have no defence.

The Marquis paid great attention to the case, especially after that observation of the Baron’s.  Although he regretted that it could not be got in as evidence, he was good enough to say I should get the benefit of it with the jury.

All this time there was a continuous growl from my learned friend of “Monstrous! monstrous!”—­so much so that for days after that word kept ringing in my ears, as monotonously as a muffin bell on a Sunday afternoon.

But I believe he was more irritated by my subsequent conduct, for I played round the question like one longing for forbidden fruit, and emphasized the objection of my learned friend now and again:  all very wrong, I know now, but in the heyday of youthful ardour how many faults we commit!”

“Just tell me,” I said to the policeman, “did the learned Judge—­I mean Mr. Baron Martin—­seem to know what he was about when he let this man out on bail?”

“O yes, sir,” said the witness, “he knowed what he was about, right enough,” stroking his chin.

“You may rely on that,” said the Marquis.  “You may take that for granted, Mr. Hawkins.”

“I thought so, my lord; there is not a judge on the Bench who can see through a case quicker than the Baron.”

The grumbling still continued.

“Now, then, don’t answer this.”

“You have already ruled, my lord,” said Rodwell.

“This is another one,” said I; “but if it’s regular to keep objecting before the prisoner’s counsel has a chance of putting his question, I sit down, my lord.  I shall be allowed, probably, to address the jury—­that is, if Mr. Rodwell does not object.”

The noble Marquis, on seeing my distress, said,—­

“Mr. Hawkins, the question needs no answer from the policeman; you will get the benefit of it for what it is worth.  The jury will draw their own conclusions from Mr. Rodwell’s objections.”

As they did upon the whole case, for they acquitted, much to Mr. Rodwell’s annoyance.