"Good Lord!" growled Admiral Trist, Chairman of the Bench, Master of
the famous Gantick Harriers. "Six of us to hear a case of sleeping
out!"

"Who's the defendant?" asked Sir Felix Felix-Williams. "'Thomas
Edwards'--Don't know the name in these parts."

"I doubt if he knows it himself, Sir Felix," answered Mr. Batty, the
Justices' Clerk. "The Inspector tells me it's a tramping fellow the
police picked up two nights ago. He has been in lock-up ever since."

"Then why the devil couldn't they have sent round and fished up one
of us--or a couple--to deal with the case out of hand?"

"Damned shame, the way the police nurse this business!" murmured Lord
Rattley, our somewhat disreputable local peer. "They're wanted at
Tregarrick to-day, and, what's more, they want the fun of the Show.
So they take excellent care to keep the charge-list light. But since
Petty Sessions must be held, whether or no, they pounce on some poor
devil of a tramp to put a face on the business."

"H'm, h'm." The Admiral, friend of law and order, dreaded Lord
Rattley's tongue, which was irresponsible and incisive. "Well, if
this is our only business, gentlemen--"

"There _is_ another case, sir," put in Mr. Batty. "Wife--Trudgian by
name--wants separation order. Application reached me too late to be
included in the list."

"Trudgian?" queried Parson Voisey. "Not Selina Magor, I hope, that