"Your occupation, Herr Stroebling?"

"Florist."

He blew his nose, taking his time about it so that we could admire the white silk handkerchief. A flower was in the lapel the dark jacket. His legs were casually crossed in the pinstripe trousers and the shoes shone. "You are a florist?"

"I direct a chain of shops."

'Is that why you wear a flower in your buttonhole?"

"I always wear a flower."

Someone tittered.

The light was bleak in the tall cold windows. The heating was full on but many still wore their overcoats, as if in need comfort.

Another objection: personal comment on appearance of accused. Overruled: not customary to enter this court dressed as if for a festive occasion, therefore reason sought.

I watched the spectators particularly. I knew who the accused were. I didn't know who the spectators were. Some were the wives of the accused and had come here with them, for most of the accused were on bail and free to go home at the end of the session. There were others in the gallery who came and went alone, hunched into their coats and with their eyes for no one. A few were women.

One girl had come in late this morning and I had noticed her. She was good-looking but I hadn't noticed her because of that.

"Usher!"