"Do you wish to make out a case of non compos mentis?" asked old Mr. Teal. "There is no medical evidence adduced."
"Not in the least," said Pugeot; "he's as right as I am, only he has had worries." Then, confidentially, and speaking to the Bench as fellow-men: "If you will make it a question of a fine, I will guarantee everything will be all right—and besides"—a brilliant thought—"his wife will look after him."
"Is his wife present?" asked Colonel Grouse.
"That is the lady, I believe," said Colonel Salmon, looking in the direction of the Rossignols, whom he dimly remembered having seen at the Squire Simpson's with Simon.
Pugeot, cornered, turned round and looked at the blushing Madame Rossignol.
"Yes," said he, without turning a hair, "that is the lady."
Then the recollection struck him with a thud that he had introduced the Rossignols as Rossignols to the Squire Simpson's and that they were registered at the hotel as Rossignols. He felt as though he were in a skidding car, but nothing happened, no accusing voice rose to give him the lie, and the Bench retired to consider its sentence, which was one guinea fine for Sigismond and a month for Horn.
"You've married them," said Julia, as they walked back to the hotel, leaving the others to follow. "I never meant you to say that. But perhaps it's for the best; she's a good woman and will look after him, and he'll have to finish the business, won't he?"
"Rather, and a jolly good job!" said Pugeot. "Now I've got to bribe the hotel man and stuff old Simpson with the hard facts. Never had such fun in my life. I say, old thing, where do you hang out in London?"
Julia gave him her address.