There is some low talking on the bench which Mona, who is breathing audibly, does not hear, and then the High Bailiff prepares to give judgment. “This is a serious offence. If such riots were to be permitted at the encampment all military discipline would be at an end. Therefore it is the duty of the civil authorities in dealing with civilian prisoners....” The High Bailiff’s voice is drowned by a noise near the door. A woman’s tremulous voice is heard to say: “Wait a minute, sir.” At the next moment Mona is seen pushing her way to the front. The advocate for the Crown recognizes her, and thinking she comes to support his case, he rises and says: “This is the young woman I spoke of in my opening as having saved the life of the captain from the fury of the prisoners. If it is not too late she may be able to say something that will throw light on the conduct of the men and on their motive.” “No, not on the conduct and motive of the men, but on that of the captain,” says Mona. There is further murmuring on the bench, and then the High Bailiff says: “Let her be called.” Being in the witness-box and sworn, Mona, with the eyes of the judges, advocates and spectators upon her, begins to tremble all over, but she answers firmly when spoken to. “You wish to say something about the captain--what is it?” “That he is a bad man, and a disgrace to the army.” The Governor puts up his eyeglass and looks at her. Then he smiles rather cynically and says: “You seem to know something about the army, miss. What is the medal you are wearing on your breast?” “The Victoria Cross, sir,” says Mona, throwing up her head, “won by my brother when he died in the war, and sent home to my father by the King.” The eyeglass drops from the Governor’s nose and his face straightens. After a moment of silence the High Bailiff says: “What you say of the captain--is it from hearsay or from personal experience?” “From personal experience, sir.” There is another moment of silence and then the High Bailiff says: “Tell us.” Mona takes hold of the rail of the witness-box, and it is seen that her fingers are trembling. She tries to begin, but at first the words will not come. At length, lifting her eyes as if saying to herself, “Oh, what matter about me?” she tells the story of the captain’s attempt at a criminal assault upon her; how, late at night, when she was alone and unprotected he had tried to force his way into her house and had almost overcome her resistance when Oskar Heine came up and laid hold of him by the throat and flung him back into the road. “So if there’s any spite,” she says, “it’s not Heine’s against the captain, but the captain’s against Heine.” There is a dead hush in the court-house until she has done. Then the High Bailiff looks down at Oskar, who is still standing by the witness-box, and says: “Is this true?” Oskar answers in a husky voice: “I’m sorry the young lady has said it, sir, but it’s true, perfectly true.”