Their
first and second verdicts were recorded without the necessity for
withdrawal, and Mr. Bosengate was already sleepy when the third case was
called. The sight of khaki revived his drooping attention. But what a
weedy-looking specimen! This prisoner had a truly nerveless pitiable
dejected air. If he had ever had a military bearing it had shrunk into
him during his confinement. His ill-shaped brown tunic, whose little
brass buttons seemed trying to keep smiling, struck Mr. Bosengate as
ridiculously short, used though he was to such things. 'Absurd,' he
thought--'Lumbago! Just where they ought to be covered!' Then the
officer and gentleman stirred in him, and he added to himself: 'Still,
there must be some distinction made!' The little soldier's visage had
once perhaps been tanned, but was now the colour of dark dough; his
large brown eyes with white showing below the iris, as so often in
the eyes of very nervous people--wandered from face to face, of judge,
counsel, jury, and public. There were hollows in his cheeks, his dark
hair looked damp; around his neck he wore a bandage. The commercial
traveller on Mr. Bosengate's left turned, and whispered: "Felo de se! My
hat! what a guy!" Mr.
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