Dean. "To hell with you, you 

 infernal scoundrel," and suddenly 

 a dozen things happened. Dean's 

 hand flew to his right hip pocket. 

 The juror from behind pounced on 

 him and knocked him to the floor, 

 every man was on his feet, the 

 judge's stick came down on the 

 table. ' ' Order order in the Court. ' ' 



The sheriff sprang forward, re- 

 volver in hand, Dean regained his 

 feet, cursing under his breath. Again 

 the judge's gavel-cane descended 

 sonorously and his piping voice com- 

 manded "Order, or the sheriff must 

 do his duty." 



Dean, his face ashy pale, stood 

 shaking his head like a lion at bay; 

 an instant's intense silence, then 

 with a visible effort he regained 

 self-control. 



Dean. "I beg your Honour's par- 

 don. The gentleman of the de- 

 fence is a white-livered hell-hound. 

 He is trying to derogate the 

 character of the counsel for the 

 prosecution. " 



Barker attempted to speak. The 

 Judge checked him. 



"Gentlemen will please lay all 



