“Oh,” said the judge, “that’s different”

He looked at Sir Magnus, convinced by now that he was an authority on elephants.

“Can elephants walk up stairs?” he asked.

“Indubitably,” said Sir Magnus.

“Anyway,” said Lady Fenneltree, irritated by the judge’s interruption, “my husband had secreted the elephant in the stables, as Sir Augustus said, unbeknownst to me. He had worked out a ridiculous scheme which, if it had been brought to my attention, I would have put an immediate stop to. He and that Rookwhistle creature were going to dress themselves up as Indians and bring the elephant into the ballroom, sitting in a howdah.”

The judge leant forward and stared at her, puzzled. “But I always though,” he said, “that a howdah was a thing that elephants wore on their backs.”

“They do,” said Lady Fenneltree.

“But then, how,” asked the judge plaintively, “did they manage to get the elephant into the howdah?”

Sir Augustus leapt to his feet once more, aware that Lady Fenneltree was on the verge of giving the judge a short but pungent correction.

“My lord,” he said, “Lord Fenneltree and the defendant dressed themselves in Indian costume, put a howdah on the back of the elephant and rode into the ballroom in the howdah.”

The judge started to make small squeaking, snuffling noises to himself, shaking all over as though with ague. It was some seconds before the court realised that he was laughing. Presently, still trembling with mirth, he wiped his eyes and leant forward.

“What you could almost call, Sir Augustus, a pretty how da do, eh?” he said and lapsed once more into helpless laughter.

“Ha, ha,” said Sir Augustus dutifully. “Extremely witty, my lord.”

A ghastly silence settled over the court while the judge grappled with his sense of humour. Presently, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief and blowing his nose, he waved a hand at Lady Fenneltree. “Do please go on, madam,” he said.

“My guests were all enjoying the humble but adequate entertainment that we were offering them,” said Lady Fenneltree, “when suddenly the doors of the ballroom burst open and the elephant rushed in and slid to the end of the room.”

“Slid?” enquired the judge.

“Slid,” said Lady Fenneltree firmly.

The judge peered at Sir Augustus. “I am not altogether sure,” he said, “that I understand the witness.”

“It slid, my lord,” said Sir Augustus, “on the parquet floor.”

“Slid,” said the judge musingly. He looked at Sir Magnus. “Can elephants slide?” he enquired.

“Given a suitable polished surface and sufficient impetus, I believe, my lord, that even an elephant may slide,” said Sir Magnus.

“Was it meant to slide?” enquired the judge, looking at Lady Fenneltree.

“Whether it was meant to slide or not is beside the point, she said crisply. “It slid straight into all the tables containing the food and wine. My husband was in the howdah in his ridiculous outfit and he and the howdah fell off. I approached him and asked him why he had seen fit to introduce an elephant into my ballroom.”

“A good question,” said the judge, struck by Lady Fenneltree’s penetration. “And what did he answer?”

“He said,” said Lady Fenneltree, with a wormwood-like bitterness, “that it was a surprise.”

“Well,” said the judge judicially, “it was an honest answer. It was a surprise, wasn’t it?”

“Since that evening,” said Lady Fenneltree, “I have been searching my mind for a word which would describe the experience adequately, and ‘surprise’ was not one that I dredged up from my not inconsiderable knowledge of the English tongue.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” said the judge with decision. “That is exactly what I think myself.”

“May I continue?” enquired Lady Fenneltree. “Preferably without further interruptions?”

“Of course, of course,” said the judge. “Yes, by all means. What happened next?”

He sat forward and fixed his gaze eagerly upon Lady Fenneltree like a child being told a fairy-tale.

“The food was, of course, ruined,” said Lady Fenneltree. “The elephant was completely out of control, rampaging to and fro and seeking whom it could devour. I was gently remonstrating with my husband for his foolishness in introducing a wild beast into such a place, when it first pulled down a priceless chandelier, and then, rushing up to me, seized me in its trunk.”

“By George!” said the judge. “What did you do, eh?”

“Being a mere woman,” said Lady Fenneltree in a voice like a bugle sounding a cavalry charge, “I fainted.”

“Very proper,” said the judge. “It must have been a harrowing experience.”

Lady Fenneltree bowed her head slightly, endeavouring. somewhat unsuccessfully to look like a cringing and modest virgin.

“When I came to,” she said, “I found myself on a salmon.”

“It seems to me,” said the judge in a puzzled manner, “that there are an awful lot of animals entering into this case. Were you aware, Sir Augustus, that there were so many animals in the case?”

Sir Augustus closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, “but the salmon was dead.”

“Well, it would be, in a ballroom,” said the judge. “Bound to be. Unless there was a fountain or something.”

“There is no fountain in our ballroom,” said Lady Fenneltree.

“Well, there you are,” said the judge in triumph. “It shows it must have been dead.”

“It was a cold salmon,” said Lady Fenneltree.

“Because it was dead?” enquired the judge.

Sir Augustus rose to his feet once again with a long-suffering air.

“For the edification of the guests, my lord,” he said, “Lady Fenneltree had provided a large, cooked salmon. This had been displaced by the activities of the pachyderm and when it had finished carrying Lady Fenneltree around, it deposited her unconscious figure upon the fish.”

“Fascinating,” said the judge. “I cannot remember when I have enjoyed a case so much. Tell us more, Lady Fenneltree.”

“When I recovered consciousness, I was on the salmon. I was just in time to see Sir Hubert Darcey being picked up by the elephant and dashed to the ground in what was obviously a deliberate attempt to kill him.”

Lady Fenneltree had never been Adrian’s favourite woman, and this deliberate lie he could not stomach. Since Sir Magnus was obviously not going to do anything about it, he felt he must.

“It’s a lie!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. “Rosy never harmed anyone in her life. You’re just a vindictive old cow.”

A wave of excitement and admiration ran through the court. Lady Fenneltree cast a look of contemptuous disdain at Adrian and turned to the judge.

“My lord,” she said with biting sweetness, “do you normally allow witnesses to be insulted in your court?”

“Not normally,” said the judge absent-mindedly. “But tell me, what has this cow got to do with it? Seems to me there are far too many animals in this case.”

Sir Augustus, looking like a very unsuccessful Horatio at the bridge, got unsteadily to his feet.

“I think, my lord,” he said, “that the witness has made it quite clear that the elephant was large, malevolent, uncontrolled and, indeed, uncontrollable, and with the wild creature’s natural desire to kill.”

“Rubbish!” shouted Adrian.

“Will you shut up,” said Sir Magnus, waking up for a brief moment. “You’re doing more harm than good, ranting and raving like that. Leave the old cow to me.”

“I think,” said Sir Augustus, ignoring Adrian’s outburst with exquisite courtesy, “I have made it plain to your lordship and to this fine body of men that make up the jury, that on two occasions this wild animal was allowed by the person who was supposed to be in charge of it, to wit Adrian Rookwhistle, to run riot. The extraordinary thing is, and indeed we have to thank a merciful providence for this, that nobody was killed.”

He sat down with a faint air of satisfaction and Sir Magnus rose slowly to his feet.