Blenkin, defeated, leaned back in his chair.  “I give it up,” he said.  “You have a try at him.”

I looked at Pumpenheim.  His narrow eyes turned to me.

“If you had offered the money to a German officer,” I said, and the interpreter repeated the words—­“if you had offered the money to a German officer he—­might—­have—­taken—­it.”

Slowly a look of comprehension crossed the face of Adolf Hans Pumpenheim.  It was like sunrise upon his grey and stubbly countenance, where three days’ growth of beard had thriven in the soil of the guard-room.  He was not altogether happy, for he had been found guilty and had paid a fine.  But in the course of this ceremony, which appeared to him mystical and obscure, he had encountered one familiar idea, one thought within his power of understanding.  Rectitude was a stranger to him, but corruption an old friend:  He was not abashed; rather, on the contrary, he was cheered and encouraged.  I could see that his heart warmed to me in particular, and I believe that but for his respect for the Court he would have paid me the compliment of a wink.

“Let him go,” said Blenkin; and the Court adjourned for lunch.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “SETTLED PEACE!  I TELL YOU THERE’S NO SUCH THING.  I BURIED THE HATCHET WITH MY STEP-MOTHER AFTER TEN YEARS, AND NEXT MORNING SHE WROTE, ‘I’M GLAD YOU’VE SEEN THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS.’”]

    “At Newcastle, this afternoon, the airmen, had a great
    reception.  The Lord Mayor handed each a book of views of
    Newcastle and a box of cigarettes.”—­Pall Mall Gazette.

Who says England is not a land for heroes to live in?

* * * * *

THE EDITOR REGRETS.

A few weeks ago there appeared in Punch, under the title “A Germless Eden,” some verses sent in by an unknown contributor.  The Editor is now informed that the original version of these lines was the work of Mr. ARTHUR GUITERMAN, of New York, who published them in 1915 with Messrs. HARPER AND BROTHERS in The Laughing Muse, a collection of his humorous verse.  The Editor begs both author and publishers to accept his sincere regrets.

* * * * *

    From a summing-up:—­

    “If the plaintiff was telling the truth, he had only himself
    to blame.”—­Provincial Paper.

If judges say this sort of thing, no wonder perjury is on the increase.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “’ERE, EASY ON A MINUTE; WE AIN’T SHOOK ’ANDS YET.”]

* * * * *

MELISANDE’S POINT OF VIEW.

“About rabies,” said Angela.

“Well?” said I patiently.

“Well, about Melisande,” said Angela.

“What about Melisande?” I replied.

“Oh, you know quite well what about Melisande,” said Angela; “about her and Peggy playing so much together.  Is it quite wise, do you think?  I’ve been bothering about it for some days now; cats are such queer things and a cat with rabies would be so dreadfully dangerous.”