J. S. MACHAR
let him know that, he is told. Good. And the examining superintendent informs him that the proceedings have been taken at the instance of the military commander; the man, it appears, has stolen St. Stephen's Tower. The man, of course, denies this. The superintendent enters it in his report and remarks: Your affair is very simple, a matter of a few days; we will look into your statements, on Friday or Saturday,—today is Tuesday,—we will have you called and will proceed to examine your case on its merits. You will then engage a defending counsel,—here the man protests; he does not understand the need for a defending counsel in so obvious an affair, the superintendent then wonders how it is possible not to want a defending counsel when St. Stephen's Tower is concerned,—well, so they part. The man waits; Saturday comes,—nothing, the next Saturday again nothing, the third Saturday nothing either, and the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth,—still nothing. Finally he is summoned to have his case investigated on his merits, and the authorities inform him that it has been ascertained by the enquiries of a commission and by the testimony of several credible witnesses, that St. Stephen's Tower is still in its place,—(the man's eyes sparkle),—you did not steal it,—(the man stands up gratefully),—but we cannot discharge you: there exists a well-founded suspicion that you wanted to sell the harbour of Cattaro to the Japanese. And so you are kept in prison, and will be kept there until—".
Frank turned red in the face and took out his watch.
A defence-corps man in front, a defenceworps man behind, I between them and in a good humour. Let him know that I know.
Number 60 was inspecting those who had been fumigated,—they had just returned. Their clothes were hanging on them as if they had been horribly soaked.
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