Clerk. [Reading from his papers.] And while you were taking the female prisoner did the male prisoner interpose, and endeavour to hinder you in the execution of your duty, and did he strike you a blow?

Snow.  Yes, Sir.

Clerk.  And did he say, “You, let her go, I took the box myself”?

Snow.  He did.

Clerk.  And did you blow your whistle and obtain the assistance of another constable, and take him into custody?

Snow.  I did.

Clerk.  Was he violent on the way to the station, and did he use bad language, and did he several times repeat that he had taken the box himself?

     [Snow nods.]

Did you thereupon ask him in what manner he had stolen the box?  And did you understand him to say he had entered the house at the invitation of young Mr. Barthwick

     [Barthwick, turning in his seat, frowns at Roper.]

after midnight on Easter Monday, and partaken of whisky, and that under the influence of the whisky he had taken the box?

Snow.  I did, sir.

Clerk.  And was his demeanour throughout very violent?

Snow.  It was very violent.

Jones. [Breaking in.] Violent—–­of course it was!  You put your ‘ands on my wife when I kept tellin’ you I took the thing myself.

Magistrate. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] Now—­you will have your chance of saying what you want to say presently.  Have you anything to ask the officer?

Jones. [Sullenly.] No.

Magistrate.  Very well then.  Now let us hear what the female prisoner has to say first.

Mrs. Jones.  Well, your Worship, of course I can only say what I ’ve said all along, that I did n’t take the box.

Magistrate.  Yes, but did you know that it was taken?

Mrs. Jones.  No, your Worship.  And, of course, to what my husband says, your Worship, I can’t speak of my own knowledge.  Of course, I know that he came home very late on the Monday night.  It was past one o’clock when he came in, and he was not himself at all.

Magistrate.  Had he been drinking?

Mrs. Jones.  Yes, your Worship.

Magistrate.  And was he drunk?

Mrs. Jones.  Yes, your Worship, he was almost quite drunk.

Magistrate.  And did he say anything to you?

Mrs. Jones.  No, your Worship, only to call me names.  And of course in the morning when I got up and went to work he was asleep.  And I don’t know anything more about it until I came home again.  Except that Mr. Barthwick—­that ’s my employer, your Worship—­told me the box was missing.

Magistrate.  Yes, yes.

Mrs. Jones.  But of course when I was shaking out my husband’s coat the cigarette-box fell out and all the cigarettes were scattered on the bed.