Prisoner (groaning): I am not able to go on. Oh, I am so cold! (A thick rug was here thrown over him by one of the warders.) I am not able to go on; I am not. (Groaning again.) This is not justice; it is not justice.
The Stipendiary: You must take it for what it is.
The prisoner here uttered some words, which were taken to be “Oh, never mind that;” and afterwards asked that his counsel should come nearer. He seemed to suffer from the cold and the draught of air in the corridor.
Prisoner (apparently recovering himself, and looking more alert, and speaking with more energy): Then, I say, it is not justice; it is not justice. Why does not my solicitor prevent this, and ask for a remand. What is my solicitor doing not to prevent this? Tell my solicitor I want him.
Mr. Clegg: Well, what do you want?
Prisoner (sharply): Why don’t you ask for a remand?
The Stipendiary: It is no use asking for a remand at all, I tell you; the inquiry is going to be proceeded with.
Prisoner (piteously): It is not justice. I am not able to go on; you know how I am. Oh, dear, it is no matter if I’d killed myself. It would be no matter. You know how I am, and ought to have a remand. I feel I want it, and must have a remand.
The Stipendiary: Remand will not be granted; and you had better attend to what is said.
Mr. Clegg: If you want to say anything wait until I am cross-examining Mrs. Dyson, and it can be done then. You had better save your energies until then. The inquiry will be proceeded with to-day.