The Case of the Polo Pony, part 2

The case of the polo pony was held up after lunch for a considerable time while an experiment was made in court. A candle was lit by the puisne serjeant-at-arraigns and the polo pony was brought in in a loose box. It was led out, and on its back were the twelve redheaded dwarfs, bowing to right and left and grinning.

'What are you doing here, you dwarfs?' asked Cocklecarrot angrily.

'We were passing,' replied the ringleader, 'and so we looked in. Quite like old times. This pony is the model for a new rocking-horse we are constructing. We have, alas, no money to spend on books of anatomy, and so we have to study from nature. A polo rocking-horse ought to be just the thing for a child of wealthy parents. Ah! We cannot all be wealthy. When we were small, we had but one hat between us. Did we, you ask, wear it in turn, or huddle all our heads beneath its sheltering crown, like ants under a mushroom? Your curiosity shall be rewarded, judge. We never wore it at all. It rotted in a shed, unworn. And yet, sometimes when the spring wind blows, we remember that old hat and tears well unbidden to our eyes. So, when a weary heart--'

With a great roar of rage Cocklecarrot sprang erect. 'Clear this damnable court!' he bellowed.

(He then repeated the trick with the water-jug and the sunshine, and burnt the court down.)

And here, I am afraid, the saga of the red-bearded dwarfs runs out of plank. There are no more stories to hand, and further researches must be left to Google libraries of the future.

The Case of the Twelve Red-Bearded Dwarves, part 32

The Dwarfs Again

The action brought by the Phinehas Cupper-Harsnett Trading Company and the National Mortgage Indemnity Agency against Mrs. Wharple, Mohammed Brown, The Constructional Rebate Pitcher Plant, Maracaibo United, and Cicely du Bois for recovery of stamping costs has been settled out of court. Much to the relief of Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot, who discovered that the whole business was another family quarrel of the twelve red-bearded dwarfs.

'These little gentlemen,' said Cocklecarrot, 'seem to have invented a new kind of litigation. They are continually bringing actions against themselves or each other under the names of fantastic companies or individuals, none of whom appears to have any existence save on paper. The object of all this is still obscure, but there are those who hint at international ramifications, and believe that we are witnessing an attempt to make British Justice look even sillier and beastlier than it is.'

Recently the twelve dwarfs bought a female singing-mouse called Royal Gertrude on the hire-purchase system - ninepence a year for fifty-one years. The mouse broke its foot against a sugar-tongs, and, instead of singing, bawled. Only the first ninepence has been paid, and the dwarfs are claiming the money back. The firm of Hustington and Chaney, importers of singing mice, refuse to take the mouse back or refund the money, and the Boycott Japan League is organising a mass-meeting of novelists and professional agitators to petition for the deportation of the mouse to the island of Capri, where a mouse-lover, Miss Webbe-Ffoote, has offered to house, feed, clothe, and educate it.

The situation seems to await the experienced touch of Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot.

The Case of the Twelve Red-Bearded Dwarves, part 31

Cocklecarrot suggested that this ludicrous case, which need never have come into court, could easily be settled if the dwarfs (in the person of the hydraulic laundry) would apologise to themselves (in the person of the rocking-horse firm) for having destroyed a twill covering for a non-existent tail. The dwarfs lined up, six a side, and apologised in chorus. They then left the court singing Moonlight and Mrs. Mason.

Cocklecarrot said afterwards, 'I am hoping that my next case will not include these tiresome little gentlemen. I think I am about due for a bit of straightforward stuff, without all these distractions and fooleries.'

The Case of the Twelve Red-Bearded Dwarves, part 30

The case was held up again after lunch while the twelve red-bearded dwarfs were photographed, some riding the rocking-horse, which they had brought with them, others stroking it, and yet others crawling beneath its mottled belly and crying 'Peep-bo!'

Cocklecarrot: But this horse has no tail. I thought the whole case was about a length of twill to cover the tail ?

First Dwarf; M'worship, it is a guinea-horse.

Second Dwarf: Yes, your grace. If you hold it up by its tail, its head drops off.

Third Dwarf: With a bang, your ludship.

Fourth Dwarf: We have a bicycle, too. And that has no tail, either.

Fifth Dwarf: It's a guinea-bicycle.

Sixth Dwarf; The handlebars are made of lard, as a precaution.

Cocklecarrot (savagely): Against what?

Chorus of Dwarfs: Burglary, sire.

Cocklecarrot (groaning): What in Heaven's name is all this nonsense about?

Mr. Holley-Gander: I confess, m'lud, the case is developing along unexpected lines.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 29

The court had to be cleared owing to the roars of ribald laughter which greeted the appearance in the witness-box of the twelve red-bearded dwarfs all in a heap. Their names were read out amid growing uproar. The names appeared to be: Sophus Barkayo-Tong, Amaninter Axling, Farjole Merrybody, Guttergorm Guttergormpton, Badly Oronparser, Churm Rincewind, Cleveland Zackhouse, Molonay Tubilderborst, Edeledel Edel, Scorpion de Rooftrouser, Listenis Younghaupt, Frums Gillygottle.
Cocklecarrot: Are these genuine names?
A Dwarf; No, m'worship.
Cocklecarrot: Then what's your name?
Dwarf: Bogus, m'ludship.
Cocklecarrot: No, your real name.
Dwarf: My real name is Bogus, your excellency.
(At this point the court had to be cleared)

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 28

'The time of this court is valuable,' said Cocklecarrot, as four of the dwarfs carried in a large canvas cake, opened it, and released an actress who began a slow dance in the well of the court.
'Valuable to whom?' queried a dwarf.
'To the public,' replied Cockle¬carrot.
'The public,' answered the dwarf, 'would far rather have all this foolery than the usual dull nonsense of cross-examinations and long speeches. See how they are all laughing.'
And, indeed, the packed court was shaking with laughter.
'Take that actress away,' shouted Cocklecarrot, and the girl flinched back in mock alarm. And at that moment paper snow fell from the ceiling, and a dwarf cried, 'Ah, do not turn our little sister out without a roof to her mouth. Have mercy, daddy.'
Cocklecarrot laid his head in his hands and groaned audibly.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 27

'The present position,' said Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot, 'would appear to be this: A body of twelve red-bearded dwarfs, in its capacity as a firm of rocking-horse makers, is bringing an action against itself, in its capacity as a hydraulic laundry, alleging that a twill covering for the tail of a rocking-horse was destroyed by the said laundry. But the position is complicated by the fact that the horse in question has no tail. It is, therefore, difficult to see how any case arises. Nor is the matter clarified by regrettable horseplay.'
A Dwarf: Rocking-horseplay, I submit, your reverence.
Cocklecarrot: You will kindly address me properly or not at all.
Dwarf: Not at all what?
Cocklecarrot: What do you mean, 'what'?
Dwarf: No. What do you mean, 'what'?
Cocklecarrot: What I said was - oh, go to the devil!

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 26

An attempt was made to resume this case on the next day, but since the twelve red-bearded dwarfs are both plaintiffs and defendants, Cocklecarrot was rather at a loss as to how to proceed. He had, however, discovered a precedent in volume XV fn of Blitherstone, the case of a Miss Frack, who brought an action for libel against herself. Miss Frack was a novelist who, to obtain publicity, wrote a novel under the pen-name of Miles Euston, in which she said that Miss Frack, one of the characters, was a thief and a forger. She was awarded damages against herself, and was in the papers for three days, which sent her sales bounding up.
Matters were complicated, however, by the dwarfs entering a plea of Cujusmodo. Nobody had ever heard of this plea, until one of the counsel unearthed it in the third year of the reign of Henry II. There the matter rests at present.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 23

Cocklecarrot: Having regard to the curious nature of this case, I think there should be an appeal under article 6 of the Statute of Giminy and Bocage.
Mr. Pass: Under Statute Law, m'lud, refraction must be proven.
Cocklecarrot: Aye, an' it be not proven, there is always the right of multiple cozenage.
Mr. Honey-Gander: Ultra vires?
Cocklecarrot: Of course. Sine die. Tutamen being implicit, with or without barratry, responderia and plonth, except in municipal law.
Mr. Pass: And wivenage, in lieu of direct mandibility?
Cocklecarrot: Not concurrently with external vapimenta. Merely in plenary copyhold.
Mr. Honey-Gander: M'lud, a tort being the source of a private right of action, in common law, as distinct from equity, matrimonial, Admiralty, agricultural or piscatorial jurisdiction, alterum non laedere, I suggest that classification, per se, under the Employers' Liability Act of 1897, as in Wivenhoe v. Spott (1903 A.C. 274) becomes a matter of malicious nuisance, sic utere tuo ut alienum laedas, in which case follopy is self-evident. For instance, a turtle's egg in the Galapagos Islands--
Cocklecarrot: Quite, quite, Mr. Honey-Gander. Let someone else develop the thing for a bit now. Now, my office being jus dicere, if not jus dare (see Hopkins v. Tollemache), it would be some considerable advantage to me to know what this case is about. Nobody, so far, has thought of mentioning such a thing.
Mr. Honey-Gander: M'lud, we have first to decide whether common usage or commercial usage is the more' convenient instrument for developing and expanding a statute law.
Cocklecarrot: I don't see why we have to go into that now.
Mr. Poss: M'lud, if a contract is unenforceable, as in Miss Fancy Fimple v. The Gaiety Theatre, Buttery-on-the-Vile, then, and not till then, the interchangeable nature of judicial procedure becomes, morally speaking, paramount. Now by the Bills of Exchange Act (1876) twill was included in the category of perishable goods. But if perishable goods are used to wrap the tails of rocking-horses they become, by mansuetude, imperishable, because the tail of a rocking-horse, of which the wrapping is an integral part, is a structure and not a moving fixture.
Cocklecarrot: How can a thing be both perishable and imperishable?
Mr. Poss: Only the Law can tell us that, m'lud.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 21

The following letter speaks for itself:-
Dear Sir,
As you are aware, I recently played a small but not unsensational part in the Dwarf Case. I flatter myself that I conducted myself more as an ardent supporter of a strong Navy than as a witness for or against anything in particular. I now learn that the case is to be tried again, owing to some technical flapdoodle or other. May I take this opportunity of stating as publicly as possible that, if I am called again, I shall to the best of my ability once more defend the Navy? What these dwarfs did or did not do is no affair of mine. To-day we are concerned with more important matters. For there can be no safeguard for the peace of Europe until our British-built warships lie keel to keel across every knot of the seven seas, and until every port of the habitable globe harbours a British submarine.
Yours faithfully,
Ewart Hodgson (Rear-Adml.)

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 20

Sunlight streaming through a water-bottle and glass on the judge's desk set a light to papers.
(News item)
Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot, informed of this accident, saw an excellent way to deal with the case. He cunningly set alight to all the papers relevant to the case - if anything can be called relevant to such a case - by manipulating the water-bottle and the glass. He then fed the flames with his wig and various bits of wood which he kept in his pocket. Within an hour the court was burnt down.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 19

'I intend,' said Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot, 'to make a supreme and almost despairing attempt to sum up this most curious case. Therefore, if anybody has any questions to ask, let them be asked at once, so that I may be released for my next case, that of Hungarian Lighthouses, Ltd. versus Miss Myra Keekie.
Several Dwarfs: We're in that, too.
Cocklecarrot (with heavy sarcasm): I cannot tell you how delighted I am at the prospect of having you with me again. May I ask how you small gentry come to be involved in such a case?
A Dwarf: We are Miss Myra Keekie. It is we who wrote the famous letter cancelling an order for twelve hundred and thirty lighthouses.
Cocklecarrot: All this seems to be quite clear and straightforward. It looks as though I am in for another month of tomfoolery. Hungarian lighthouses, indeed! Why, Hungary-
Mrs. Renton: May I implore your lordship not to start this case before mine is disposed of?
Cocklecarrot: Oh, certainly, certainly. Now, where were we? Hum. (With sudden anger.) It is these damnable small gentlemen who keep on confusing the issue.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 18

Next day Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot endeavoured once more to deliver his summing up in this remarkable case. 'What the jury has to decide,' he said, 'is whether Mrs. Tasker deliberately drove those dwarfs into Mrs. Renton's house, or rather into the hall of her house; whether the maid Celestine-
Mrs. Renton: Angelica.
Cocklecarrot: What?
Mrs. Renton: Angelica.
Cocklecarrot: What do you mean, Angelica? Why do you keep on saying Angelica?
Mrs. Renton: It is my maid's name.
Mr. Hermitage: It is her maid's name, m'lud.
Cocklecarrot (angrily, but with a show of patience): All right, then, Angelica. Now-
Mr. Snapdriver: Perhaps there is another maid, called Celestine, m'lud.
Mrs. Renton: No. The other is Minnie. (Roars of laughter.)
Cocklecarrot: There may be forty maids. I am speaking of Angelica. Now what the jury has to decide is whether this maid- er- Min –er-Angel - er- Cel- Whether this maid Celestine-
Mrs. Renton: Angelica.
Cocklecarrot (dropping his head in his hands and speaking wearily): Mrs. Renton, will you please allow me to say what I have to say? The name of the maid is immaterial.
Mr. Snapdriver: But, m'lud, Celestine was on holiday at Bournemouth at the time.
Mr. Hermitage: My learned friend means Eastbourne, m'lud.
Mr. Snapdriver: My learned friend is right. Eastbourne.
Cocklecarrot (satirically): Well, now that this very important matter has been settled, perhaps we can continue, unless someone would like to tell me that Minnie was at Blackpool.
A Dwarf: If it comes to that, I myself have been to Blackpool. (Howls of laughter.)
Cocklecarrot (regarding the dwarf with rage): That is most interesting and most relevant.
(The court rises for lunch)

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 16

Cocklecarrot: The time has, I think, come for you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, to consider this case on its merits.
Foreman of Jury: And what, sir, would you say were its merits?
Cocklecarrot: What would you?
Foreman: We have not so far understood one word of the proceedings.
Cocklecarrot: I must say there have been moments when I myself seemed to have lost touch with the real world. Nevertheless, certain facts stand out.
Foreman: For instance?
Cocklecarrot: I will not be crossexamined by my own jury. You are here to deliver a verdict, not to question me. You have heard the evidence.
Foreman: Was that the evidence? All that horseplay?
Cocklecarrot: If this continues I shall discharge the jury, and the case will be heard all over again with a new jury. Stop those dwarfs singing! This is not a music hall.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 15

Meanwhile a brawl was taking place outside the court. A lady bearing a banner which said, 'Litigate, Don't Arbitrate,' was accidentally pushed off the pavement by the dwarfs, who had come in a large motor-car.
When Mrs. Tasker arrived, she held a newspaper in front of her face, thus enabling the unwary Press photographers to advertise the Hunstanton Daily Courier.
The dwarfs were cross-examined to-day. At least, one of them was cross-examined.
Mr. Hermitage: Your name is Howard Brassington ?
The Dwarf (in a deep, loud voice): It is no such thing.
Mr. Hermitage (consulting his notes): What is your name, then?
The Dwarf: Stanislas George Romney Barlow Barlow Orchmeynders.
Mr. Hermitage: Two Barlows?
The Dwarf: Why not?
Mr. Hermitage: You are a night watchman.
The Dwarf: Why not?
Cocklecarrot: Mr. Porchminder, you will please answer yes or no.
The Dwarf: No.
Mr. Hermitage: Where were you on the night of 10th April ?
The Dwarf: No.
Cocklecarrot (to counsel): Apart from retaining fees, would it not be better to speed up this case a bit?
The Dwarf: Yes.
Cocklecarrot: Send him away. Call Mrs. Renton.
Mr. Hermitage: Speak your mind, Mrs. Renton, speak your mind.
Mrs. Renton: I will. I accused Mrs. Tasker of driving a dozen redheaded dwarfs into my hall. She admits she did it. The dwarfs say she did it. Well, what more is there to be said? What are we waiting for?
Cocklecarrot: Mrs. Renton, you do not understand that certain formalities – er - the Law has its own way of doing things.
Mrs. Renton: And that is why I have to come here day after day to listen to all this irrelevant foolery -- speeches about the Navy, arguments about a dwarf's mother, fuss about dates, and so on.
Cocklecarrot: I am the first to admit that there have been irregularities and delays in this case, but-- (A dwarf shouts loudly, 'M'lud! M'lud!' Cocklecarrot and Mrs. Renton exchange glances.)
Mr. Hermitage: Well?
The Dwarf: I think I'm going to be sick.
Mrs. Renton: That is about the only thing that hasn't happened in this case so far.
Cocklecarrot: Usher! Remove that dwarf.

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 13

Mr. Hermitage: Now, Dr. Spunton, is there, to your knowledge, any disease which would account for Mrs. Tasker's strange habits?
Dr. Spunton: There is. It is called rufo-nanitis. The spymtoms-
Mr. Hermitage: Symptoms.
Dr. Spunton: Yes, spymptoms, but I always put a 'p' before a 'y'.
Cocklecarrot: With what object, might we ask?
Dr. Spunton: I can't help it, m'lud.
Cocklecarrot: Do you say pyesterday?
Dr. Spunton: Pyes, unfortunatelpy. It's hereditarpy. Mpy familpy all do it.
Cocklecarrot: But why 'p'?
Dr. Spunton: No, py, m'Iud.
Cocklecarrot: This case is the most preposterous I ever heard. We get nowhere. The evidence is drivel, the whole thing is a travesty of justice. In two weeks we have done nothing but listen to a lot of nonsense. The case will be adjourned until we can clear things up a bit.
Dr. Spunton: But I was brought all the wapy from Pyelverton.
Cocklecarrot: Well, go pyack to Pyelverton. Goodpye, and a phappy pjournepy. Pshaw!

The Case of the Red-Headed Dwarfs, part 11

Another ludicrous scene occurred while Mr. Tinklebury Snapdriver, for the prosecution, was crossexamining Mrs. Tasker.
Mr. Snapdriver: Your name is Rhoda Tasker?
Mrs. Tasker; Obviously, or I wouldn't be here.
Mr. Snapdriver: I put it to you that you were once known as Rough-House Rhoda?
Mr. Hermitage: No, no, m'lud, Rough-House Rhoda is another lady, whom I propose to call - a Mrs. Rhoda Mortiboy.
Cocklecarrot: What a queer name.
A Dwarf: 'You are speaking of my mother.’ (Sensation.)
Cocklecarrot: Is your name Mortiboy?
The Dwarf; No. Towler's my name.
Cocklecarrot: (burying his head in his hands) I suppose she married again.
The Dwarf; What do you mean, again? Her name has always been Towler.
Cocklecarrot (groaning): Mr. Hermitage, what is all this about?
Mr. Hermitage: M'lud, there is a third Rhoda, a Mrs. Rhoda Clandon.
Cocklecarrot (to the dwarf, sarcastically): Is she your mother, too?
The Dwarf: Yes. My name's Clandon.
Cocklecarrot: I think, Mr. Snapdriver, we had better proceed without this Rhoda business. My nerves won't stand it.
Mr. Snapdriver: My next witness is the artiste known as Lucinda - a Mrs. Whiting.
(Everybody looks at the dwarf.)
Cocklecarrot (with heavy sarcasm): And, of course-
The Dwarf; Yes, she is my mother.
Cocklecarrot (roaring): Then what is your name, you oaf?
The Dwarf: Charlie Bread. (Laughter and jeers).
Cocklecarrot: Clear the court! This foolery is intolerable. It will ruin my political career.

The case of the red-bearded dwarfs, part 10

Another ludicrous scene occurred while Mr. Tinklebury Snapdriver, for the prosecution, was crossexamining Mrs. Tasker.
Mr. Snapdriver: Your name is Rhoda Tasker?
Mrs. Tasker; Obviously, or I wouldn't be here.
Mr. Snapdriver: I put it to you that you were once known as Rough-House Rhoda?
Mr. Hermitage: No, no, m'lud, Rough-House Rhoda is another lady, whom I propose to call-a Mrs. Rhoda Mortiboy.
Cocklecarrot: What a queer name.
A Dwarf: You are speaking of my mother.’ (Sensation.)
Cocklecarrot: Is your name Mortiboy?
The Dwarf; No. Towler's my name.
Cocklecarrot: (burying his head in his hands) I suppose she married again.
The Dwarf: What do you mean, again? Her name has always been Towler.
Cocklecarrot (groaning): Mr. Hermitage, what is all this about?
Mr. Hermitage: M'lud, there is a third Rhoda, a Mrs. Rhoda Clandon.
Cocklecarrot (to the dwarf, sarcastically): Is she your mother, too?
The Dwarf: Yes. My name's Clandon.
Cocklecarrot: I think, Mr. Snapdriver, we had better proceed without this Rhoda business. My nerves won't stand it.
Mr. Snapdriver: My next witness is the artiste known as Lucinda - a Mrs. Whiting.
(Everybody looks at the dwarf.)
Cocklecarrot (with heavy sarcasm): And, of course-
The Dwarf: Yes, she is my mother.
Cocklecarrot (roaring): Then what is your name, you oaf?
The Dwarf: Charlie Bread. (Laughter and jeers).
Cocklecarrot: Clear the court! This foolery is intolerable. It will ruin my political career.

The Case of the Twelve Red-Bearded Dwarfs, part 8

When the hearing of this case was resumed and the court had assembled, Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot expressed his dissatisfaction with the progress made with the case. He said that the business of the court, which was the administration of justice, was being continually held up by irrelevancies, and he recommended to both counsel rather more expedition. "We must keep to the point," he said.

And at those words a piercing scream rang through the court. A woman was seen to be standing on a bench and pointing at one of the dwarfs.

"It's my Ludwig, my own little son Ludwig," she cried. "Ludwig, Ludwig, don't you know your mother?" There was no answer.

"Well, do you or don't you?" asked Cocklecarrot impatiently.

"My name is Bob," said the dwarf with slow dignity, "and I am an orphan. I was left on the doorstep of a house in Eaton Square. In a basket. A month later both my parents died."

"How do you know?" asked Cocklecarrot.

"I read it in the paper."

"You read it?" shouted the judge. "Why, how old were you ?"

"Thirty-one," said the dwarf. "It happened last year."

"Do you ask the court to believe," interrupted Mr. Hermitage, "that at the age of thirty-one you were put into a basket and left on the doorstep of a house in Eaton Square? Who carried the basket?"

"Two friends of my mother," said the dwarf.

"Were you covered up in any way?"

"Oh, yes,' said the dwarf, 'with an old travelling-rug."

"And what happened when you were found?"

"The lady of the house fell over the basket when she came out to go to a dance. She thought it was the washing, and had me carried in by the back entrance. The maids had hysterics when I got out of the basket, and, of course, I had to clear out. So I went to Nuneaton to seek employment; and it was while working there for a haulage contractor that I met the lady who afterwards became my wife, and a dearer, sweeter creature-"

"All this," interrupted Cocklecarrot, "has nothing whatever to do with the case. Mr. Hermitage, please try to confine yourself to the matter in hand. The whole thing is becoming impossible."

The Case of the Twelve Red-Bearded Dwarfs, part 6

The hearing of the case was continued to-day. Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot said: 'So far, hardly a mention has been made of these dwarfs. We have heard a long speech about the British Navy, and there has been a brawl in the canteen about the cost of coffee and sandwiches. It is not thus that the majesty of the Law is upheld.'

Mr. Tinklebury Snapdriver: I apply for a writ of tu quoque.

Mr. Bastin Hermitage: And I for a writ of sine mensis.

Cocklecarrot: Ah, that's better. That's more like the Law. I well remember in the case of the Pentagon Chemical Foodstuffs and Miss Widgeon versus Packbury's Weather Prophecies, Ltd., Captain Goodspeed intervening, a colleague of mine laid down that -- however, let us to the matter in hand. I understand, Mr. Hermitage, that you intend to call the Tellingby fire brigade. May I ask why?

Mr. Hermitage: They had been summoned to Mrs. Renton's house to extricate a child's head from between her chestnut fencing on a day when Mrs. Tasker arrived with the dwarfs. The chief of the brigade will tell us that Mrs. Tasker pushed the little men into the hall as soon as the maid, Agatha, had opened the door.

Fire Brigade Chief (from back of court): No, I won't!

(Consternation. Laughter. Cheers. An Asiatic carpet-seller is thrown out.)