“Silence!” again shouted the judge, rapping vigorously.  “The sentence is this:  the prisoner shall stand on his head for two seconds, then recite a piece of poetry, and then—­in the course of a week—­leave the country.”

“Your ‘ludship’ will please sign the sentence and we will submit it to the jury,” suggested the learned counsel, who, as you will perceive, had rather peculiar ideas about court formula.

“What shall I sign?” asked his “ludship.”

“Anything,” said Rex.  “Those papers all look like old things—­quick!  I think I hear Jarvis coming.  Sign the one in your hand.  Just write Geoffrey Addison Barrington.  It’s only for fun, you know.”

He caught up a dingy-looking document, opened it, and, thrusting the pen which was in his “ludship’s” hand into the ink, he and the prisoner at the bar crowded up to see the signature which Charlie wrote as he had been told to do, in a distinct schoolboy’s hand.  He had barely crossed the “t” and dotted the last “i” when they heard a step, and scurrying into the cupboard, they saw Jarvis come in, take something from the desk, and go out without a glance in their direction.  As the door closed behind him it opened again to admit Justice Barrington and Dr. Kingsley.

“Where are they?” asked Uncle Geof, peering about the dark room as if the boys might be hidden behind some table or chair.

“Boys,” called the doctor, “where are you?”

Then they walked out—­such a funny-looking trio!  Rex’s table-cover robe floated behind him, and the style of his wig was certainly unique.  Selwyn had brought away on his coat a goodly share of the dust of the cupboard.  His brown hair stood on end, and his blue eyes were shining with excitement.  But his “ludship” brought down the house.  He came forth holding up his long gown on each side, his bands were almost under his left ear, his wig was on one side, and his glasses awry!  The contrast between his magisterial garb and his round young face and merry hazel eyes was too much for the gravity of the two gentlemen.  With a glance at each other they burst into a long, hearty laugh, in which the boys joined.

A little later, the gown and wig having been restored to their proper places by the much scandalized Jarvis, the party returned to Portland Square.  And none of the boys thought of mentioning that Charlie had signed a document with his uncle’s name, which he had not read.

A few days after this Dr. Kingsley and his family left England for the Continent, taking Rex with them, and not until September did they return to London for a short visit before sailing for America.

“I have an account to settle with you, Master Charlie,” said Uncle Geoffrey, the first evening, when they were all assembled in the drawing-room.  “Do you recollect a certain visit to my chambers when you represented a judge of the Queen’s Bench?”

Charlie, Selwyn and Rex looked at each other, laughed, and nodded.