o
Court at the suggestion of their leading Counsel, Bouncer, Q.C., who was
nothing if not theatrical. He wanted them there to see the overthrow of
the enemy, and to lend point to his invective against the intruders who
were trying to take away their birthright. A small army of Doyles and
Donohoes, who had come down for the case, were hanging about dressed in
outlandish garments, trying to look as if they would not tell a lie for
untold gold. The managing clerks were in and out like little dogs at a
fair, hunting up witnesses, scanning the jury list, arranging papers for
production, and keeping a wary eye on the enemy. Punctually as the
clock struck ten, the Judge strutted into Court with as much pomp as a
man-of-war sailing into a small port; depositing himself on the Bench,
he glared round for a few seconds, and said to the associate, "Call the
first case," in a matter-of-fact tone, just as if he did not know what
the first case was going to be. A little rustle went round the Court as
people settled themselves down for the battle.

The case for Peggy was set forth by the great Jewish barrister,
Manasseh, Q.C. He was famous for his skill in enlisting the sympathies
of the jury from the outset. He drew a moving picture of the sorrows of
Peggy, disowned by her husband's relatives and the case proceeded so far
that he had put the marriage certificate in evidence when Blake, who had
been away for a few minutes rushed into Court and touched Manasseh on
the shoulder, bringing him to an abrupt stop.

Manasseh asked the Judge to excuse him for a moment while he conferred
with his juniors and Blake. After a short but excited conference he rose
again and--but first we must hear what had happened outside.

While all concerned were in Court listening to Manasseh, Considine had
been smuggled into the witnesses' room and, being bored and worried,
had strayed into the verandah of the Court buildings. He had been
hauled into consultations with barristers, and examined and badgered and
worried to death. The hard Sydney pavements had made his feet sore.
The city ways were not his ways, and the mere mental effort of catching
trains and omnibuses, and keeping appointments, and having fixed
meal-times, was inexpressibly wearing to a man who had never been tied
to time in his life.

And what a dismal prospect he had before him! To go over to England and
take up a position for which he was wholly unfitted, without a friend
who would under