Suddenly the door of the private room opens, and the Clerk comes out;
instantly the buzz subsides, and in the silence those who are nearest
catch something about the odds and the St. Leger, and an anything but
magisterial roar of laughter. The chairman appears, rigidly compressing
his features, and begins to deliver his sentence before he can sit down,
but the solemn effect is much marred by the passing of a steam ploughing
engine. The audience, too, tend away towards the windows to see whose
engine it is.
'Silence!' cries the Clerk, who has himself been looking out of window;
the shuffling of feet ceases, and it is found that after this long
consultation the Bench have dismissed both charges. The next case on the
list is poaching; and at the call of his name one of the gipsy-looking
men advances, and is ordered to stand before that part of the table
which by consent represents the bar.
'Oby Bottleton,' says the Clerk, half reading, half extemporizing, and
shuffling his papers to conceal certain slips of technicality; 'you are
charged with trespassing in pursuit of game at Essant Hill--that you did
use a wire on the estate--on land in the occupation of Johnson.'--'It's
a lie!' cries a good-looking, dark-complexioned woman, who has come up
behind the defendant (the whilome navvy), and carries a child so wrapped
in a shawl as to be invisible. 'Silence! or you'll have to go outside
the court.
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