early so that he could get to his golf, entered. The monotonous "Oyez, oyez" rang through the hot room. The bailiff, summoned by the judge, listened respectfully to his whispers and, securing the window pole from the corner, opened a neglected window. So intent were the eyes of the audience and the jury upon the bailiff's manipulation of the long, wobbly pole that no one seemed to note the silent entrance of Rao-Singh at the rear of the courtroom. Banning's sensation as he announced his first witness of the day, "Prince Rao-Singh," with a flourish backward toward the tall, dark, turbaned Hindu, was as stunning as he could have desired.
The judge rapped violently with his gavel to quell the excited buzz that followed this announcement. Rao-Singh, pale, sweeping the court with a haughty, almost insolent smile, made his way slowly and with seeming great difficulty down the aisle toward the witness chair, assisted by Dhinn at his elbow and a cane in his other hand. A physician might have ventured the assertion that the Hindu could walk perfectly well by himself. Except for his paleness, there was no evidence that he had lately been at the point of death. His features were naturally gaunt.
Rao-Singh mounted into the witness chair and handed his cane to his servant. He was
