J. N. Do you find the prisoner at the bar “Guilty” or “Not Guilty”?
F. of J. Guilty, my lord.
J. F. Just so.
J. N. Prisoner at the bar, you have been fairly tried and found guilty by a jury of your fellow-countrymen of two most serious offences—crimes, I should say. If I had not to pronounce sentence upon one whose conscience is seared and case-hardened to an unexampled degree, I might have some words to say to you. ( Aside: And also if I didn’t want to get out of this as quick as I can; for I’m sure there is some row going on.) As it is, I will add no words to my sentence. ( Aside: I wish I were off, but let’s give it him hot and heavy!) I sentence you to six years’ penal servitude and to pay a fine of £100.
J. F. Well, its pretty much what I expected of you. As to the £100, don’t you wish you may get it; and as to the six years—
[ Great noise; “ Marseillaise ” sung quite close; hammering on the doors.
J. F. Hark! what’s that?
J. N. ( in a quavering voice ). Remove the prisoner!
[ Enter a Socialist ensign with a red flag in his hand.
S. E. Remove the prisoner! Yes, that’s just what I’ve come to do, my lord. The Tables are Turned now!