other company than the dozen empty
stools which had faced us during the trial, and which represented the
inalienable right of the civil population to attend the court if they
pleased. Custom forbids me to divulge the finding or the sentence.
It will suffice to say that justice was tempered with mercy. We were
about to readmit the prisoner, his escort and the imaginary public
when my partner in the suppression of crime was struck by an idea.

"Look here," asked Major Blenkin, "what about the moral aspect?"

I hesitate to argue with Blenkin about moral questions, on which he
speaks with authority. I therefore awaited his next remark.

"The moral aspect," Blenkin went on, "is most important. I intend to
impress this fellow. I shall tell him that if he had been a French
peasant and had offered a bribe to a German officer he would have been
put against a wall and shot. Do you agree?"

I considered the proposition.

"No," I said, "I don't."

Blenkin threw me a suspicious glance. "Why not?" he asked.

"Too many assumptions," I said.

Blenkin bridled indignantly. It was on the tip of his tongue to charge
me with being a pro-German. He controlled himself and rang a bell. "I
shall hold to my own opinion," he remarked with some asperity.

The prisoner, his escort and the interpreter were marched in. Adolf
Hans Pumpenheim created the customary diversion by turning to the
right on the command, "Left turn," and the sergeant-major made the
customary comments, undeterred by the prisoner's ignorance of English.
The imaginary public filed in and occupied the vacant stools.

When this bustle had subsided, the finding and the sentence were read
by Blenkin and duly translated by the interpreter. Pumpenheim was
quite impassive, and maintained his composure throughout the small
financial transaction which followed. He counted out his notes with an
air of fatalism. Having obtained a receipt for the fine he made us a
little bow and turned to leave the court.

"One moment," said Major Blenkin.

"_Einen Augenblick_," echoed the interpreter. Pumpenheim faced about
and stood to attention.

Blenkin cleared his throat. "I will not dwell upon the moral aspect of
your case," he said. The prisoner's features expressed neither relief
nor surprise, but polite inquiry. Blenkin, slightly ruffled, enlarged
upon the heinous nature of the crime and the leniency of the sentence.
Finally he produced his masterpiece of comparison--the French peasa