J. S. MACHAR
far beyond the frontiers of the monarchy,—there was nothing to be undertaken on a large scale, so Praetor Lamm turned his attention to the minima.
Gentlemen, those boots with which stern justice has burdened the life of that dauntless artillery-man can with confidence be transferred to the account of that excellent person Simon Lamm, and that he made his appearance in Hungary as the king of Magyar pickpockets can be asserted with as much assurance as that twice two is not five.
I will conclude. This man is capable of anything, and has committed all offences which he could commit. In the interests of the State and of humanity to whom his very existence is a menace, both pro praeterito as well pro futuro, for what he has perpetrated, as well as for what he might yet perpetrate, I urge you, gentlemen, to sentence him to death by hanging."
The accused and his defending counsel, overwhelmed by convulsive shudders, had not a word to say. The court also was trembling from the effects of the public prosecutor's speech, and adjourned for deliberation.
The deliberation was very noisy, but did not last long. The court returned and the chairman announced: "The accused is convicted on all counts and is guilty of all the charges; the court sentences him to fourteen days open arrest."
It grew dark. The room was full of merriment. The improvised proceedings had pleased everybody. For several days the room had been pervaded by discontent and silent despair,—something had to be done. I am not fond of having such mournful faces around me.
Mr. Fels shook hands with me gratefully: "I won't forget that of you as long as I live. And I believe that it might be so in reality."
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