"Broken bones!" the judge wheezed. He closed his eyes, as though to blot out a vision too awful for observation. When he opened them again, they were fixed on Hotstuff Harold.
"And how did you and your disreputable friends get mixed up in this?" he asked malevolently.
"We weren't mixed up in it," Hotstuff Harold said innocently. "We didn't know anything about these nudists until close to the end. We were very shocked at them."
"I dare say," the judge said dryly. "And may I ask, since you were out merely sniffing the flowers, how you all happened to be armed with guns?"
"Well," Hotstuff said vaguely, "we botanists can't be too careful, you know. There might be snakes."
"There are snakes," the judge said evenly, "and this courtroom is fairly crawling with them. Don't tell me that you were shooting up the countryside just to be on the safe side. Don't tell me that!"
"No, sir," Hotstuff said sullenly. "I was goin' to, but I won't."
Floss stepped forward, her hair in wild disarray. "Look, your honor," she said, "I guess we might as well come clean. We was only out doin' a little job for Pillsworth."
"What!" the judge said. "You mean to say this Pillsworth commissioned you to do murder for him?"
"Well, not exactly murder," Floss said ingenuously. "We was just arrangin' a little accident—outa gratitude."