"Yes," replied the Judge-Advocate, "there is. I believe the War Office
have been talking about adopting it for years. But this is not the time
of day to make changes of that kind. Everybody's worked off his head."

Eight officers had entered the room at intervals, the subalterns a
little ahead of their seniors in point of time, as is the first duty of
a subaltern whether on parade or at a "general," and, having saluted the
President in the window, they stood conversing in low tones.

The Colonel suddenly glanced at his left wrist, walked to the middle
chair behind the table, and taking his seat said, "Now, gentlemen, carry
on, please!" As they took their places the Colonel, as President of the
Court, ordered the prisoner to be brought in. There was a shuffle of
feet outside, and a soldier without cap or belt or arms, and with a
sergeant's stripes upon his sleeve, was marched in under a sergeant's
escort. His face was not unpleasing--the eyes well apart and direct in
their gaze, the forehead square, and the contours of the mouth firm and
well-cut. The two took their places in front of the chair, and stood to
attention. The prisoner gazed fixedly at the letters "R.F.," which
flanked the arms of the Republic on the wall above the President's
head, and stood as motionless as on parade. A close observer, however,
would have noticed that his thumb and forefinger plucked nervously at
the seam of his trousers, and that his hands, though held at attention,
were never quite still. The escort kept his head covered.

At the President's order to "bring in the evidence," the soldier on duty
at the door vanished to return with a squad of seven soldiers in charge
of a sergeant, who formed them up in two ranks behind the prisoner and
his escort. And they also stood exceeding still.