"Of course not! Nothing more natural!" replied Baron Shoskuty, who never let an opportunity go by of paying a compliment to a lady; "your ladyship is the milk, nay, the cream of human kindness! We are rude and uncharitable men. The county has sent us to make an example, and we are bound to make one."
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Catspaw, who had given unmistakeable signs of impatience; "time presses,—hadn't we better begin?"
"If you like," said Kishlaki, greatly confused, "we have to examine the witnesses and——"
"We'll soon get the better of the witnesses," said Mr. Skinner. "There is no difficulty in the case. We'd get twice through it before dinner time."
"Viola is as guilty as anybody ever was!" cried Mr. Catspaw, as he walked to the door.
"If he is, it will be shown by the evidence," said a loud sonorous voice; "one ought never to pre-judge a case."
Everybody looked at Völgyeshy, who had spoken the last sentence. The attorney walked up to Mr. Skinner and whispered: "I don't like the fellow!" But Lady Kishlaki, who had hitherto paid no attention to the ill-favoured young man, looked kindly at him.
"You are right," said she; "it's hard that a man should be judged before his case has been inquired into. I know you will pity him."
"I am not an assessor, and have no vote," replied Mr. Völgyeshy, as he left the room with the rest of the party. Mr. Kishlaki remained alone with his wife.
"Consider, Valentine," said she, taking him by the hand—"consider that a sentence of death cannot be pronounced unless the judges are unanimous. Every one of you is highly responsible for the death of this man."