As Mr. Quest turned, his eye caught the flash of colour from the peacock feather hat. Thence it travelled to the face beneath.
He gave a gasp, and the court seemed to whirl round him. The sword had fallen indeed!
“Well, Billy!” whispered the hateful voice, “you see I’ve come to look you up.”
With a desperate effort he recovered himself. A policeman was standing near. He beckoned to him, and told him to remove the woman, who was drunk. The policeman advanced and touched her on the arm.
“Come, you be off,” he said, “you’re drunk.”
At that moment Mr. de la Molle ceased giving judgment.
“I ain’t drunk,” said the woman, loud enough to attract the attention of the whole court, which now for the first time observed her extraordinary attire, “and I’ve a right to be in the public court.”
“Come on,” said the policeman, “the clerk says you’re to go.”
“The clerk says so, does he?” she answered, “and do you know who the clerk is? I’ll tell you all,” and she raised her voice to a scream; “he’s my husband, my lawful wedded husband, and here’s proof of it,” and she took the folded certificate from her pocket and flung it so that it struck the desk of one of the magistrates.
Mr. Quest sank into his chair, and a silence of astonishment fell upon the court.