Explore "The Black" by Edgar Wallace on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Central Criminal Court was crowded on the second and last day of the trial, when James Lexington Morlake came up the stairs that led into the large and roomy dock. The white court, with its oaken panels, was pleasing to Jim's discriminating eye; the scarlet and crimson of the judge's robes, the velvet and fur of the Sheriff's, the gold and red of the City Marshal--they harmonised perfectly.
The judge carried in his hand a tight bouquet of flowers and laid them on his desk. It was a far cry from the days of those foetid courts when the judges carried disinfecting herbs, and an act of grim necessity had been translated through the ages into a pretty custom.