‘And then it thanked you, didn’t it, for dropping the case?’ said Pallant.

‘Yes, and it sent me a telegram to confirm.’  Woodhouse turned to Bat.  ‘Now d’you think I hit too hard?’ he asked.

‘No-o!’ said Bat.  ’After all—­I’m talking of every one’s business now—­one can’t ever do anything in Art that comes up to Nature in any game in life.  Just think how this thing has—­’

‘Just let me run through that little case of yours again,’ said Pallant, and picked up The Bun which had it set out in full.

’Any chance of ‘Dal looking in on us to-night?’ Ollyett began.

‘She’s occupied with her Art too,’ Bat answered bitterly.  ’What’s the use of Art?  Tell me, some one!’ A barrel-organ outside promptly pointed out that the Earth was flat.  ’The gramophone’s killing street organs, but I let loose a hundred-and-seventy-four of those hurdygurdys twelve hours after The Song,’ said Bat.  ‘Not counting the Provinces.’  His face brightened a little.

‘Look here!’ said Pallant over the paper.  ’I don’t suppose you or those asinine J.P.’s knew it—­but your lawyer ought to have known that you’ve all put your foot in it most confoundedly over this assault case.’

‘What’s the matter?’ said Woodhouse.

’It’s ludicrous.  It’s insane.  There isn’t two penn’orth of legality in the whole thing.  Of course, you could have withdrawn the charge, but the way you went about it is childish—­besides being illegal.  What on earth was the Chief Constable thinking of?’

‘Oh, he was a friend of Sir Thomas’s.  They all were for that matter,’ I replied.

’He ought to be hanged.  So ought the Chairman of the Bench.  I’m talking as a lawyer now.’

’Why, what have we been guilty of?  Misprision of treason or compounding a felony—­or what?’ said Ollyett.

‘I’ll tell you later.’  Pallant went back to the paper with knitted brows, smiling unpleasantly from time to time.  At last he laughed.

‘Thank you!’ he said to Woodhouse.  ’It ought to be pretty useful—­for us.’

‘What d’you mean?’ said Ollyett.

’For our side.  They are all Rads who are mixed up in this—­from the Chief Constable down.  There must be a Question.  There must be a Question.’

‘Yes, but I wanted the charge withdrawn in my own way,’ Woodhouse insisted.

’That’s nothing to do with the case.  It’s the legality of your silly methods.  You wouldn’t understand if I talked till morning,’ He began to pace the room, his hands behind him.  ’I wonder if I can get it through our Whip’s thick head that it’s a chance....  That comes of stuffing the Bench with radical tinkers,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, sit down!’ said Woodhouse.

‘Where’s your lawyer to be found now?’ he jerked out.

‘At the Trefoil,’ said Bat promptly.  ’I gave him the stage-box for to-night.  He’s an artist too.’

‘Then I’m going to see him,’ said Pallant.  ’Properly handled this ought to be a godsend for our side.’  He withdrew without apology.