Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Human-animal communication -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
I could not hear any more for they talked in whispers; and I fell to
looking round the court again.
Of course I could not understand everything that was going on, though
it was all very interesting. People kept getting up in the place the
Doctor called the witness-box, and the lawyers at the long table asked
them questions about “the night of the 29th.” Then the people would get
down again and somebody else would get up and be questioned.
One of the lawyers (who, the Doctor told me afterwards, was called the
Prosecutor) seemed to be doing his best to get the Hermit into trouble
by asking questions which made it look as though he had always been a
very bad man. He was a nasty lawyer, this Prosecutor, with a long nose.
Most of the time I could hardly keep my eyes off poor Luke, who sat
there between his two policemen, staring at the floor as though he
weren’t interested. The only time I saw him take any notice at all was
when a small dark man with wicked, little, watery eyes got up into the
witness-box. I heard Bob snarl under my chair as this person came into
the court-room and Luke’s eyes just blazed with anger and contempt.
This man said his name was Mendoza and that he was the one who had
guided the Mexican police to the mine after Bluebeard Bill had been
killed. And at every word he said I could hear Bob down below me
muttering between his teeth,
“It’s a lie! It’s a lie! I’ll chew his face. It’s a lie!”
And both the Doctor and I had hard work keeping the dog under the seat.
Then I noticed that our Mr. Jenkyns had disappeared from the Doctor’s
side. But presently I saw him stand up at the long table to speak to
the judge.
“Your Honor,” said he, “I wish to introduce a new witness for the
defense, Doctor John Dolittle, the naturalist. Will you please step
into the witness-stand, Doctor?”
There was a buzz of excitement as the Doctor made his way across the
crowded room; and I noticed the nasty lawyer with the long nose lean
down and whisper something to a friend, smiling in an ugly way which
made me want to pinch him.
Then Mr. Jenkyns asked the Doctor a whole lot of questions about
himself and made him answer in a loud voice so the whole court could
hear. He finished up by saying,
“And you are prepared to swear, Doctor Dolittle, that you understand
the language of dogs and can make them understand you. Is that so?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor, “that is so.”
“And what, might I ask,” put in the judge in a very quiet, dignified
voice, “has all this to do with the killing of er—er—Bluebeard Bill?”
“This, Your Honor,” said Mr. Jenkyns, talking in a very grand manner as
though he were on a stage in a theatre: “there is in this court-room
at the present moment a bulldog, who was the only living thing that
saw the man killed. With the Court’s permission I propose to put that
dog in the witness-stand and have him questioned before you by the
eminent scientist, Doctor John Dolittle.”
_THE SIXTH CHAPTER_
THE JUDGE’S DOG
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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