“This is quite an experiment, you fellows. It may be a failure, or it may go off all right. It depends on how we do our best. The idea is that a prisoner is to be tried for murder (delight among the juniors). Barnworth, who is the counsel for the prosecution, has prepared the story, and Felgate has been told what the line to be taken against the prisoner is, so that he might prepare his defence. These are the only two who know exactly what they are to do beforehand. All the rest will have to act according to the papers they have drawn. Who has drawn prisoner?”
Amid much laughter Stafford blushingly owned the soft impeachment, and was called upon to enter the dock, which he did, looking rather uncomfortable, and as if he half repented his consent to take a part in the proceedings.
“Now,” proceeded Ainger, consulting a paper, “the twelve jurymen are to go into the box there.”
The twelve boys with “Jury” on their papers obeyed. They were a motley crew, some being Fifth-form boys, some Shell-fish, and some Babies. And by the odd irony of fate, the one who had drawn the “foreman’s” ticket was Jukes, the Baby.
“Now the witnesses go to the back seats there. You’ll find on each the name you will be called by, and a short note of what your evidence is to be. You will have to listen very carefully to Barnworth’s story, so as to know exactly what it’s all about.”
There was a laugh at this. Some thought it a trifle queer that witnesses should have to learn what their evidence was to be from notes given them in court and from counsel’s speech. But they were young, and did not know much of law courts.
“Of course you must not show one another your notes,” said Ainger; “that would spoil all.”
“Ta-ta,” said the baronet rather dismally to his chum; “they call me Tomkins!”
“The junior counsel for the prosecution, of course, are to sit behind Barnworth, and for the defence behind Felgate. You must listen carefully, as you may have to help in the cross-examination. The rest of the public go to the back; and now we are ready to begin. Usher, call silence in the court.”
Tilbury, whose proud office it was to act in this capacity, shouted, “Order, there! shut up!” in a loud voice.