“Make a note of that, Gentlemen of the jury,” said Bill, and the Constable obligingly made a note of it on his banana bag.

“The identity of the bag-stealers bein’ now settled,” went on Bill, “I shall kindly ask Sir Benjimen to step down, and call on Sir Samuel Sawnoff to ascend the witness-box.”

Sam stepped up cheerfully, but, as the witness-box was the wrong size for Penguins, they had to hand him a chair to stand on.

“Now, Sir Samuel,” said Bill, impressively, “I am about to ask you a most important leadin’ question.  Do you happen to notice such a thing as a Puddin’ in the precinks of the Court?”

Sam shaded his eyes with his flapper and, seeing the Puddin’ on the bench, started back dramatically.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is yon object a Puddin’?” he cried.

“Well acted,” said the Mayor, and the Constable clapped loudly.  “I am now about to ask you another leadin’ question,” said Bill.  “Do you recognize that Puddin’?”

“Do I recognize that Puddin’?” cried Sam in thrilling tones.  “That Puddin’, sir, is dearer to me than an Uncle.  That Puddin’, sir, an’ me has registered vows of eternal friendship and esteem.

“That Puddin’, sir, an’ me have sailed the seas,
Known tropic suns, and braved the Artic breeze. 
We’ve heard on Popocatepetl’s peak
The savage Tom-Tom sharpenin’ of his beak. 
We’ve served the dreadful Jim-Jam up on toast,
When shipwrecked off the Coromandel coast,
And when we heard the frightful Bim-Bam rave,
Have plunged beneath the Salonican wave. 
We’ve delved for Bulbuls’ eggs on coral strands,
And chased the Pompeydon in distant lands. 
That Puddin’, sir, and me, has, back to back,
Withstood the fearful Rumty Tums’ attack,
And swum the Indian Ocean for our lives,
Pursued by Oysters, armed with oyster knives. 
Let me but say, e’er these adventures cloy,
I’ve knowed that Puddin’ since he were a boy.”

“All lies,” sang out the Puddin’, looking over the rim of his basin.  “For well you know that you and old Bill Barnacle collared me off Curry and Rice after rollin him off the iceberg.”

“Albert, Albert,” said Bill, sternly.  “Where’s your manners interruptin’ Sir Samuel in that rude way, and him a-performin’ like an actor for your deliverance!”

" How much longer do you expect me to stay up here, bein’ guzzled by these legal land-crabs?” demanded the Puddin’.

“You shall stay there, Albert, till the case is well and truly tried by these here noble Peers of the Realm assembled,” said Bill, impressively.

“Too much style about you,” said the Puddin’, rudely, and he threw the Judge’s glass of port into Bill’s face, remarking:  “Take that, for being a pumpkin-headed old shellback.”

There was a great uproar over this very illegal act.  The Judge was enraged at losing his port, and the Mayor was filled with horror because Bill wiped his face on the mayoral hat, Sam had to feign amazement at being called a liar, and the puddin’-thieves kept shouting “Time, time; we can’t stand here all day.”