The Colonel suddenly glanced at his left wrist, walked to the middle chair behind the table, and taking his seat said, “Now, gentlemen, carry on, please!” As they took their places the Colonel, as President of the Court, ordered the prisoner to be brought in.  There was a shuffle of feet outside, and a soldier without cap or belt or arms, and with a sergeant’s stripes upon his sleeve, was marched in under a sergeant’s escort.  His face was not unpleasing—­the eyes well apart and direct in their gaze, the forehead square, and the contours of the mouth firm and well-cut.  The two took their places in front of the chair, and stood to attention.  The prisoner gazed fixedly at the letters “R.F.,” which flanked the arms of the Republic on the wall above the President’s head, and stood as motionless as on parade.  A close observer, however, would have noticed that his thumb and forefinger plucked nervously at the seam of his trousers, and that his hands, though held at attention, were never quite still.  The escort kept his head covered.

At the President’s order to “bring in the evidence,” the soldier on duty at the door vanished to return with a squad of seven soldiers in charge of a sergeant, who formed them up in two ranks behind the prisoner and his escort.  And they also stood exceeding still.

The President read the order convening the court, and, as he recited each officer’s name and regiment, the owner acknowledged it with “Here, sir.”  When he came to the prisoner’s name he looked up and said, “Is that your name and number?” The escort nudged the prisoner, who recalled his attention from the wall with an immense effort and said “Yes, sir.”

“Captain Herbert appears as prosecutor and takes his place.”  As the ritual prescribed by the Red Book was religiously gone through, the prisoner continued to stare at the wall above the President’s head, and the rain rattled against the window-panes with intermittent violence.  Having finished his recital, the President rose, and with him all the members of the court rose also.  He took a Bible in his hand and faced the Judge-Advocate, who exhorted him that he should “well and truly try the accused before the court according to the evidence,” and that he would duly administer justice according to the Army Act now in force, without partiality, favour, or affection....  “So help you God.”  As the colonel raised the book to his lips he chanted the antiphon “So help me God.”  And the Judge-Advocate proceeded to swear the other members of the court, individually or collectively, three subalterns who were jointly and severally sworn holding the book together with a quaint solemnity, as though they were singing hymns at church out of a common hymn-book.  Then the Judge-Advocate was in turn sworn by the President with his own peculiar oath of office, and did faithfully and with great earnestness promise that he would neither divulge the sentence, nor disclose nor discover any votes or opinions as to the same.  Which being done, and the President having ordered the military policeman to march out the evidence, the sergeant in charge cried “Left turn.  Quick march.  Left wheel,” and the little cloud of witnesses vanished through the doorway.