"Cleanin' 'er," said Ortheris, with the sullen brassy stare that
always went with his choice lies.

He might as well have said that he was dancing naked, for at no
time did his rifle need hand or rag on her twenty minutes after
parade. Still the High Court would not know his routine.

"Are you going to stick to that - on the Book?" I asked.

"Yes. Like a bloomin' leech."

"All right, I don't want to know any more. Only remember that
Quigley, Parsons, and Trot couldn't have been where you say
without hearing something; and there's nearly certain to be a
barrack-sweeper who was knocking about the square at the time.
There always is."

"Twasn't the sweeper. It was the beastie. 'E's all right."

Then I knew that there was going to be some spirited doctoring,
and I felt sorry for the Government Advocate who would conduct the
prosecution.

When the trial came on I pitied him more, for he was always quick
to lose his temper, and made a personal matter of each lost cause.
Raines's young barrister had for once put aside his unslaked and
Welling passion for alibis and insanity, had forsworn gymnastics
and fireworks, and worked soberly for his client. Mercifully the
hot weather was yet young, and there had been no flagrant cases of
barrack-shootings up to the time; and the jury was a good one,