Mr. Bingley-Spyker pleaded surprise. He pointed out that he had been in bed for a fortnight, "laid aside," as he said, "through the prevailing epidemic." In the meantime the revolution had taken place, and he had heard nothing about it.
"Well," said the President gruffly, "we carn't 'elp that, can we, comrades? While this 'ere citizen 'as been restin' in the lap o' luxury, so to speak, we workers 'ave been revolutin'. An' that's all there is to it."
"But fair play," persisted Mr. Bingley-Spyker gently, "is a jewel. At least so I have always understood."
"Not so much of it, me lad," interrupted the President sharply. "Now then, comrade, wot's the charge?"
An unkempt person stepped up to the front and, clearing his throat with some emphasis, began:—
"About ten-thirty this morning I see this gentleman—"
"What? " The interruption came simultaneously from several members of the tribunal.
"—this party walkin' down Whitehall casual-like, as if the place belonged to 'im instead of to us. 'What ho!' I says to myself, 'this 'ere chap looks like a counter-revolution'ry;' and with that I comes closer to 'im. Sure enough he was wearin' a 'igh collar, about three inches 'igh, I should say, all white an' shiny, straight from the lorndry. I could 'ardly believe my eyes."
"Never mind your eyes, comrade," the President said; "tell us what you did."
"I accosted 'im and said, 'Ere, citizen, wot do you mean by wearin' a collar like that?'"