"'On a charge of the murder of the gendarmes Nejib Telhoon and Abdurrahman and Ibrahim Aisha and Fatima, daughter of Hason Abbas, of the attack on certain nomads, of having fired on them with the intent of murder, of participation and assistance in the act of murder, of having shot on the regular troops, of assisting in the escape of some offenders and of having drawn arms on the regular troops, during an uprising on Sunday, January 24, 1303--Mohammedan style--between the inhabitants of the Mezreatil-Arab quarter in Beirut and the nomads who had pitched their tents near by, the following arrested persons, namely--Metri son of Habib Eljemal and Habib son of Mikael Nakash and Hanna son of Abdallah Elbaitar and Elias Esad Shihada and Tanous son of Jerji Khedr and Habib son of Aboud Shab and Elias son of Metri Nasir and Khalil son of Mansour Maoud and Nakhle son of Elias Elhaj and Nakhle son of Berkat Minari and Antoon son of Berkat Minari and Lutfallah son of Jerji-Kefouri and Jabran Habib Bishara and Kholil son of Lutf Dahir and Nakhle Yousif Eldefoumi, all residents of the said quarter and Turkish subjects, and their companions, sixty-five fugitives, namely--Isbir Bedoon son of Abdallah Zerik and Elias son of Kanan Zerik and Amin Matar and Jerji Ferhan alias Baldelibas and Habu son of Hanna Kahoots and--'" Deputy Assistant District Attorney Pepperill started doubtfully to his feet. "If the court please," he murmured in a sickly voice, "I object. In the first place I don't know anything about this record--and I object to it on that ground; and in the second place a trial and conviction in the absence of a defendant under our law is no conviction at all." "But this man is a Turkish subject and it's a good conviction in Turkey," argued Mr. Tutt. "Well, it isn't here!" protested Pepperill. "You're a little late, aren't you?" inquired His Honor. "It has all been read to the jury. However, I'll entertain a motion to strike out--" "I should like to be heard on the question," said Mr. Tutt quickly. "This is an important matter." Unexpectedly a disgruntled-looking talesman in the back row held up his hand. "I'd like to ask a question myself," he announced defiantly, almost arrogantly, after the manner of one with a grievance. "I'm a hard-working business man. I've been dragged here against my will to serve on this jury and decide if this defendant murdered somebody or other. I don't see what difference it makes whether or not this witness cut a tablecloth in two or murdered Fatima, the daughter of What's his Name. I want to go home--sometime. If it is in order I'd like to suggest that we get along." Judge Wetherell started and peered with a puzzled air at this bold shatterer of established procedure. "Mister Juryman," said he severely, "these matters relate directly to the credibility of the witness. They are quite proper. I--I--am--surprised--"