pretences, my Lord----," he begins. But his solicitor plucks at his
gown and points out to him that he is confusing his briefs. Counsel
apologises to the Court and asks leave to refresh his memory. In a
passionate whisper to his solicitor he asks who is this Hohenzollern
man, anyway, and why the devil does he want to be mentioned before
his time? Enlightened, he explains to the Court that the accused
has got some money together for a dock defence and would like an
opportunity to instruct his counsel more fully.

His Lordship refuses a postponement; Hohen-what's-his-name should
have thought of this before. His Lordship has every confidence in
counsel's ability to pick up the facts as the case proceeds. If
counsel's personal convenience is involved that is another matter.
But as for Zohenhollern--["Hohenzollern, my Lord"]--he cannot expect
particular treatment; and that will do, thank you.

The ushers start calling out for him to surrender to his bail:
"Hohenzollern! Hhhohenzollern! Owen Zollern!" re-echoes throughout
the building. "Zollern--O-N!" is heard faintly in the far distance.
No one notices that a gentleman with a fierce moustache has already
made his dramatic entry and is trying to push his way into the
dock....

He is stood up with half-a-dozen other prisoners, so that one jury
may be sworn for the lot. It is desired that each prisoner should
be identified with his name as it is called. WILLIAM HOHENZOLLERN,
whichever he may be, is asked to bold up his hand. An old man in
corduroys, who wears a dirty handkerchief round his neck for collar
and cravat, and is charged with feloniously stealing, taking and
carrying away his forty-first pair of boots and is also a bit 'ard