The prisoner with his head bent forward and his eyes steadfastly fixed on the floor replied:
“Setrosmito, kandjeng toean.”
“Where were you born?”
“At Kaligaweh, kandjeng toean.”
“How old are you?”
“I don’t know, kandjeng toean.”
The djaksa turned to the clerk of the court and said, “Put him down about forty years of age.”
There was, in reality, but little need for all this interrogatory; for the particulars had been already noted down during the course of the preliminary examinations. The questions were, in fact, put merely pro forma.
“Where do you live?” continued the president.
“In the prison, kandjeng toean,” innocently answered the prisoner.