“The prisoner waiting our verdict, gentlemen, is the Honorable Roderick Westerfield, younger brother of the present Lord Le Basque.  He is charged with willfully casting away the British bark John Jerniman, under his command, for the purpose of fraudulently obtaining a share of the insurance money; and further of possessing himself of certain Brazilian diamonds, which formed part of the cargo.  In plain words, here is a gentleman born in the higher ranks of life accused of being a thief.  Before we attempt to arrive at a decision, we shall only be doing him justice if we try to form some general estimate of his character, based on the evidence—­and we may fairly begin by inquiring into his relations with the noble family to which he belongs.  The evidence, so far, is not altogether creditable to him.  Being at the time an officer of the Royal Navy, he appears to have outraged the feelings of his family by marrying a barmaid at a public-house.”

The drowsy juryman, happening to be awake at that moment, surprised the foreman by interposing a statement.  “Talking of barmaids,” he said, “I know a curate’s daughter.  She’s in distressed circumstances, poor thing; and she’s a barmaid somewhere in the north of England.  Curiously enough, the name of the town has escaped my memory.  If we had a map of England—­” There he was interrupted, cruelly interrupted, by one of his brethren.

“And by what right,” cried the greedy juryman, speaking under the exasperating influence of hunger—­“by what right does Mr. Westerfield’s family dare to suppose that a barmaid may not be a perfectly virtuous woman?”

Hearing this, the restless gentleman (in the act of changing his position) was suddenly inspired with interest in the proceedings.  “Pardon me for putting myself forward,” he said, with his customary politeness.  “Speaking as an abstainer from fermented liquors, I must really protest against these allusions to barmaids.”

“Speaking as a consumer of fermented liquors,” the invalid remarked, “I wish I had a barmaid and a bottle of champagne before me now.”

Superior to interruption, the admirable foreman went on: 

“Whatever you may think, gentlemen, of the prisoner’s marriage, we have it in evidence that his relatives turned their backs on him from that moment—­with the one merciful exception of the head of the family.  Lord Le Basque exerted his influence with the Admiralty, and obtained for his brother (then out of employment) an appointment to a ship.  All the witnesses agree that Mr. Westerfield thoroughly understood his profession.  If he could have controlled himself, he might have risen to high rank in the Navy.  His temper was his ruin.  He quarreled with one of his superior officers—­”

“Under strong provocation,” said a member of the jury.