"
"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."
"The poll opens at eight to-morrow morning," said the Chief Organiser;
"we must have him out by 7 a.m."
"Seven-thirty," amended the Prime Minister; "we must avoid any appearance
of precipitancy."
"Not later than seven-thirty, then," said the Chief Organiser; "I have
promised the agent down there that he shall be able to display posters
announcing 'Platterbaff is Out,' before the poll opens.
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