paper ball at the judge.

"Silence!" again shouted the judge, rapping vigorously. "The sentence
is this: the prisoner shall stand on his head for two seconds, then
recite a piece of poetry, and then--in the course of a week--leave the
country."

"Your 'ludship' will please sign the sentence and we will submit it to
the jury," suggested the learned counsel, who, as you will perceive,
had rather peculiar ideas about court formula.

"What shall I sign?" asked his "ludship."

"Anything," said Rex. "Those papers all look like old things--quick!
I think I hear Jarvis coming. Sign the one in your hand. Just write
Geoffrey Addison Barrington. It's only for fun, you know."

He caught up a dingy-looking document, opened it, and, thrusting the
pen which was in his "ludship's" hand into the ink, he and the prisoner
at the bar crowded up to see the signature which Charlie wrote as he
had been told to do, in a distinct schoolboy's hand. He had barely
crossed the "t" and dotted the last "i" when they heard a step, and
scurrying into the cupboard, they saw Jarvis come in, take something
from the desk, and go out without a glance in their direction. As the
door closed behind him it opened again to admit Justice Barrington and
Dr. Kingsley.

"Where are they?" asked Uncle Geof, peering about the dark room as if
the boys might be hidden behind some table or chair.