"This is an appeal from the West Hampstead County Court, my lords," began Mr. O'Sullivan, "which raises a question of some importance," and he went on in such a fashion that Arthur hoped he was going to take a long time; for Henry had come back, and, by a shake of his head, had indicated that there was no present hope of Norton Ward's arrival. Mr. O'Sullivan meant to take a decently long time; he wanted his client to feel that he was getting his money's worth of argument; therefore he avoided the main point and skirmished about a good deal. Above all he avoided that case which Norton Ward's pupil had considered decisive. Mr. O'Sullivan knew all about the case too, and had it with him, but he was in no hurry to get to it yet. Lance, J., was leaning back, the picture of polite acquiescence in a lot assigned to him by Providence, a position wherein dignity was tempered by _ennui_. But Pretyman, J., was getting restive; he was fingering his beard--he committed the solecism of wearing a beard on the Bench; then he picked out a book from the shelf by him, and turned over the leaves quickly. Mr. O'Sullivan came, by a series of flourishes, a little nearer the point. And Norton Ward did not come; and Arthur Lisle felt no better. "What about Watkins and Chichester?" demanded Pretyman, J., with a sudden violence that made Arthur jump. "I have that case here, my lord, and----" "You don't seem in a hurry to cite it, Mr. O'Sullivan. It seems to me dead in your teeth." "Let us hear the headnote, Mr. O'Sullivan," said Lance, J., suavely. Then they got to it, and Pretyman, J., and Mr. O'Sullivan had a fine wrangle over it, worrying it up and down, one saying that this was that case, the other that this case was not that case, because in that case that happened and in this case this happened, and so forth. Mr. O'Sullivan "distinguished" valiantly, and Pretyman knocked his distinctions into a cocked hat. Lance, J., sat on smiling in silence, till at last he asked blandly: "If we think the cases indistinguishable, Watkins and Chichester binds us, I take it, Mr. O'Sullivan?" That Mr. O'Sullivan had to admit, and on that admission down he sat. The moment had come--and Norton Ward had not. With an actual physical effort Arthur rose to his feet; a strange voice, which did not seem to belong to him, and sounded quite unfamiliar, said, "My lords----" He saw Lance and Pretyman, JJ., in the shape of a grotesque, monstrous, two-headed giant; for the latter was leaning over to the former, who sat listening and twice nodded his head. A slip of paper was handed up to Lance, J. He glanced at it and from it to Arthur. Again that strange voice said, "My lords----" But Lance, J., interposed suavely, "I don't think we need trouble you, Mr. Lisle," and he proceeded to say that not even Mr. O'Sullivan's ingenious arguments could enable his brother or himself to distinguish Brown and Green from Watkins and Chichester, and therefore the appeal must be dismissed with costs.