Beppo pillowed his head on his folded arms and dozed off.
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he was roused by a gust of cold air.
One look was enough to jolt him awake in an instant.
All over the huge mound of garbage stood gray figures attired in smart gray suits and gray bowler hats,
steel-gray briefcases in their hands and small gray cigars in their mouths.
They were gazing fixedly, silently, at the summit of the mound.
There, ensconced on a sort of magistrates' bench, sat three men identical to the others in every respect.
Beppo was frightened for a moment. He had no business to be there - he sensed that instinctively - and the prospect of discovery scared him.
Very soon, however, he realized that the army of gray figures had eyes for no one but the three-man tribunal.
Either they had failed to notice him at all, or they had mistaken him for some discarded object.
Whatever the explanation, he resolved to keep as still as a mouse.
Then the silence was broken by a voice from the judges' bench.
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