While the rogue seemed to study with critical care
The time-honored “Court,” with his thin crop of hair.
For five minutes or more, it’s my candid belief
That the thief eyed the Judge, and the Judge eyed the thief;
As two rivals, long parted, in some foreign land
By mischance blown together, each other they scanned;
While there rose from the concourse no perceptible sound,
Not a whisper or yawn, even, circled around.
But a charnel-house calm o’er the room seemed to fall,
Till the flies could be heard on the plastering crawl—