"Yes...." said he absently. "Yes, yes, no doubt...."
Geissler expressed his thanks for a most instructive conversation, and
took his leave.
He sat down in the court-house again, to be there in good time. He
was not ill-pleased, maybe, to feel his power; he had knowledge of a
certain piece of wrapping, a man's shirt cut across, to carry--let us
say twigs for a broom; of the body of a child floating in the harbour
at Bergen--ay, he could make matters awkward for the court if he
chose; a word from him would be as effective as a thousand swords. But
Geissler had doubtless no intention of uttering that word now unless
it were needed. Things were going splendidly without; even the
advocate for the Crown had declared himself on the side of the
accused.
The room fills, and the court is sitting again.
An interesting comedy to watch in a little town. The warning gravity
of the advocate for the Crown, the emotional eloquence of the advocate
for the defence. The court sat listening to what appeared to be its
duty in regard to the case of a girl named Barbro, and the death of
her child.
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