Linden was a lawyer, and he answered promptly: "For violating Section One of the Code of Prandial Procedure, which defines tardiness at dinner as a felony punishable by banishment from all social festivities at the house where offense is given, for a period of not less than two nor more than five years."
"You hear the—the—what are you, Mr. Linden—something horrid, aren't you?"
"He is, or his looks belie him," interjaculated Torbert.
"The prosecutor, your Honor," replied Linden, "prepared, with regard to this prisoner, to be as horrid as I look."
"May it please the Court," began Torbert, with mock gravity, "I find myself the victim of an unfortunate situation, and not a conscious and willing offender against the Prandial Code. Justice is all I ask. More I have no need for. Less I am confident your Honor never fails to render."
"Now, Mr. Prosecutor, where's my judicial temperament gone that you compliment me upon so often?" demanded Miss Maddledock, turning sharply to the lawyer. "I had it a moment ago, together with a frown; where have they gone?"
"They will return directly I call your Honor's attention to the flagrant nature of the prisoner's crime," said Linden—"a crime so utterly atrocious—"
"True, you do well to remind me. Justice you called for, sir. Very well. Justice you shall have. Go on!"
"Your Honor is most gracious. That part of the indictment which charges me with having an engagement to dine with your Honor at seven P. M. is admitted. I left my house in plenty of time, but—"
Mrs. Throcton (sotto voce).—Does the prisoner live in Harlem?