"The jury find the prisoner guilty of blowing up the Albert Hall. The
jury wish to add a rider drawing attention to the fact that a by-election
is pending in the Parliamentary division of Nemesis-on-Hand."

"That, of course," said the Government Prosecutor, springing to his feet,
"is equivalent to an acquittal?"

"I hardly think so," said the Judge, coldly; "I feel obliged to sentence
the prisoner to a week's imprisonment."

"And may the Lord have mercy on the poll," a Junior Counsel exclaimed
irreverently.

It was a scandalous sentence, but then the Judge was not on the
Ministerial side in politics.

The verdict and sentence were made known to the public at twenty minutes
past five in the afternoon; at half-past five a dense crowd was massed
outside the Prime Minister's residence lustily singing, to the air of
"Trelawney":

"And should our Hero rot in gaol,
For e'en a single day,
There's Fifteen Hundred Voting Men
Will vote the other way."

"Fifteen hundred," said the Prime Minister, with a shudder; "it's too
horrible to think of. Our majority last time was only a thousand and
seven."