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[COPTBIGHT.] THE MISSING WITNESS,

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[COPTBIGHT.] THE MISSING WITNESS, BY MARY H. TENNYSON, CHAPTER XXI. With his head bent dejectedly, Gilbert Stobart walked down the stone-strewn cutting that led to the shore; more than once he stopped irreso- lutely, but each time, after a momentary pause, with a heavy sigh he proceeded on his way. His progress was very slow, however, and he was still not more than half way down the steep road when, with a sudden, ejaculation, he raised his head sharply. Borne on the soft breeze there had come to him an ominous, chilling sound. The sound was not loud, but there was an uncanny agony in the faint cry that made his hair stir on his head as he stood listening keenly. But in a minute the complete silence reassured him, and he smiled bitterly at his own weakness. It's time I pushed on," he muttered, re- suming his way; "I am as nervous as a woman. Even the cry of a sea bird I magnify into a tragedy. I am a meddlesome impressionable lool!" Then, with a quick gasp, he stopped again, and the next moment was tearing up the ascent, his face working with excitement. The cry had been repeated. This time the air was scarcely stirred by it; but its weird faintness made it the more impressive. It was no sea bird, he was sure of that now. It was a woman—a woman crying for help. In three minutes Stobart had gained the level moorland, and then after a quick glance round he rushed onward once more. Three or four hundred yards further stood the girl who had interested him- so strangely; she was dad in a long black cloak, there was a bundle on the grass by her side, and she was standing up- right and rigid, with her two arms stretched forward imploringly. Her face, from which the large grey eyes glared with a gleam that ap- proached actual insanity, was livid in its awful pallor. In little more than an hour, it seemed to Gilbert atobart, this woman had aged twenty years; and as he looked at her his sense of pity grew 90 over- whelming that, forgetful of all conventionalities, he ran right up to her, and seizing the out- stretched fingers, clasped them tightly. "What h-?- ??Pp d?" he oried impulsively. Don t refuse my help. For Heaven's sake speak. It breake my heart to see you like this." By an effort she turned her eyes from the sea ?peeaar?ed t ??" S??g face, but her sensee ap- JpLeaw red to be still astray, and she looked at him ifhr?o6Sh, of speechless horror that cbilled him to the heart. f°I° moment her haunting eyes rested OH bls, and then she turned them seawards a?ain ?d ? once more th desolate cry escaped heri?; But he felt her icy fingers close on his; in- stinctively, it seemed, she clutched at the physical support he offered her, and he took her two ma'l hands in one of his, and passing his arm round her figure, which now shook in almost convulsive tremblings, he fodowed with his eyes the line of hers, and then became aware that the steamer had left the island and was just gaining the open sea. Iastantly he leapt to a conclusion. In the bundle hastily gathered together, which lay at her feet, and which had fallen open, he could see the newspaper he had given her an hour before, some linen, and a brush and comb. Her pur- pose, then, had been to leave the island by the steamer. Holding her tightly, for she would have fallen had he not supported her, he looked around and saw that half-a-dozen steps to the right- was the great boulder which had served him for a seat during his gloomy cogitations only a short time before. Carrying his helpless companion to it, he seated himself by her side, and abstraccing from his pocket the silver flask of whisky which, by good fortune, happened to be there, he poured a small quantity into the cup, and ventured to hold it to her chattering teeth; then tilting a few drops into her mouth, he watched the rosuit, anxiously. Presently the girl swallowed mechanically, choking and catchin- her breath with an involun- tary shudder, and then she sat upright, coughing violently, and wringing her hands piteousiy. He waited for the paroxysm to pass, and then, leaning forward, looked into her faee, heaving a sigh of profound relief as he saw a look of recog- nition flash into her astonished eyes. For a moment Antoinette stared at her sup- porter in speechless bewilderment, her haggard face flushing painfully. face flu-hinq b?ea ill again?" she asked. Then her eyes fell on the bundle lying on the ground a few yards distant; the newspaper was fluttering in the fresh breeze. In an instant the colour left her c h e?e k s, a. colour left her cheeks, and starting to her feet once more she directed her eyes towards the sea. The steamer had turned a projecting headland, and from where they stood was now invisible; but a long streak of black smoke that still hung in the clear air shewed the course it had taken. With another pitiful cry the girl sank upcn the stone again, and dropping her white face in her hands, utterly regardless of Stobart's presence, moaned out. Too late! Too late They are judging him '1 now, and I cannot save him. Oh, God, is there no help for an innocent man and a wretched, hopeless woman?" Carried away by the magnetism of her despair, the young man grasped her shcuider, and actually shook her in the vehemence of his excitement. "Listen to me," he cried. "Don't sit there i crying and wringing your hands. Tell me what is wrong. You may trust me. Did you want to get away by that steamer?" Ox i l 1 L_ > I 1 it oianiea oy tne aptness ot the question, she raised her head. Yes," she sobbed. "The next boat will not come for four days. It would take me three days to get there, and by that time it will be all -over; and then, perhaps, they might not listen to me, or he will have died of the disgrace and horror of it." And he wants to die," she went on wildly. "I have poisoned his life; he wants to die, and his blood will be upon my head." Gilbert Stob&rt's face was almost as white as Antoinette's as for a minute he stood silently looking down upon her. He could only guess at his companion's trouble, still; but her broken words had shewn him that he must trample under f-cot at once the tenderness of the sympathy he had felt for her from the instant she had C'o me into his life. In a few seconds, however, he lifted his depressed head, his eyes shining with un- j selfish devotion. Where do you want to go?" he asked calmly. "To Manning-ton." "Mannington he repeated. I don't know where it is." You kave to go to Stafford first," she replied hopelessly. Stafford is on the nam line to the North." he interrupted excitedly. "We can get from Oban to Glasgow. That will do." His face glowing with honest enthusiasm, ho ran to where the bundle lay, and rolling the shawl tightly round It, returned it to her as she sat staring blankly at him. Then he put his; right arm round her and assisted her to her feet. "With the help of my arm could you walk down to the shore?" he asked. She did not understand his intentions, but his gentle voice sootnea ana comtorted her to some slight extent, and she raised her forlorn eyes to his. Then she grasped suddenly at his arm. What do you mean?" she cried sharply. What is in your mind?" He laid his hand over her clutching fingers. Keep calm," he said. All depends upon your nerve and strength of purpose. That is my yacht, the Sylvia, lying at anchor there. I will take you to Oban the wind is fair, and she is a fast sailer. From Oban we will go to Glasgow. If you can walk to the shore now, and can trust yourself to me, we will sail in ten minutes from the time we get on board." He felt her hands tremble on his arm, but she did not speak, and he looked enquiringly into her face. Then his heart bounded and contracted again with a pang, Her eyes were swimming in tears, and her lips were quivering; but there was such an intensity of gratitude in her face that he .scarcely dared to look on it. Ccme," he said, softly. Come, madam, we must lose no time. Lean upon mc. Do not cry any more. It weakens you." Then supporting her with tender reverence, he led her down the steep path: nor did she speak once until, by slow and painful degrees, they reached the landing-stage. Stobart made no effort to break the silence, except now and then to uttar a word of en- couragement, and indeed as they neared their destination he grew considerably perplexed as to how he could account satisfactorily for the un- expected guest he proposed bringing on board the yacht. And when at last they encountered the men who were waiting at the landing-stage with the boat the lowering confusion in their faces when he told them the lady was to accompany them was so apparent he glanced uneasily at his com- panion to see how she was affected by it. But he need not have feared. Seated by his side in the stern of the dinghy Antoinette heeded inctte i ??ccle d not the frowning faces of the bronzed, bearded sailors; her whole figure was tense with excite- ment, and her big eyes were fixed yearningly I upon the yacht, which bent and dipped on the blue waters. In five minutes the dinghy reached the side of the vessel. In an instant Stobart sprang on board, and then turning he assisted the girl to mount the ladder-like steps, supporting her firmly until she steed on the white deck. Offering her his arm and carrying her bundle, without a word to the grim Scotch skipper, who, utterly dumbfounded, stood silently looking on, Gilbert led Antoinette down the brass-bound steps into the luxurious saloon, and then shewing her the beautiful private cabin which would be at her service until the Sylvia reached Oban about noon on the following day, he returned to the deck. i The crew, numbering twelve men, were gathered together in a group, the skipper in their mid--t. They were whispering when Stobart set his foot upon the deck, but at the sight of him an ominous silence settled down upon them. Assuming a confidence he did not feel, for the surliness of the men's demeanour rendered him very uneasy, for if there were any delay in their start the consequences to the unhappv woman j on board might be terribly serious, Stobart gave directions that the anchor should be weighed a.nd the vessel got under way as soon as possibie. As a rule his orders were carried out with a promptness that was almost enthusiastic, but this j time litere was no movement among the men, nor did the skipper utter a word. Then squaring his broad shoulders, with an expression of dogged determination on his comely countenance, Stobart raised his head proudly, and looked them straight in the face. Look here. Captain," he said sharply,. I'm master here, isn't that so?" Ay, sir; ye're the maistor, sure enough," the skipper replied grimly. It's the leddy that puzzles us." With a quick flash the young man turned on him; but in an instant his glance softened, and a look of actual entreaty came into his eyes, as, crossing to the skipper, he laid his tanned hand on the seaman's arm. "See here, MacXeil," he said, "I want you to } make no difficulties, but to orowd on sail and start at once," Weel, sir," the man replied'uneasily, "I shouldna wish to refuse you onything, but that leddy-" That lady is a stranger to me," Stobart cried. I swear to you I do not even know her name, and have never spoken to her until an hour ago. But she is in terrible. distress. I found her faint- ing there on the moor. What her trouble is I know no more than you do, but she tells me that an innocent man in England is in danger of con- demnation unless she gives her evidence in his favour. She did not know this in time to catch the steamer, and she cannot leave the island for four days now, except by the Sylvia. Would you have an innocent man ruined and a woman driven mad because you are afraid of people's tongues? I should feel myself disgraced as an English gentleman to withhold help from a woman who needed it for any such pitiful consideration. And surely a. Scotchman isn't behind an Englishman in matters of chivalry. Come, Captain, don't fail this poor lady in her need, and shame me. What could I say to her? 'Go on shore, madam? We j are thirteen strong, hardy men, but we are afraid of you?' Look here, Captain, get us to Oban by noon to-morrow, so that she can catch the after- noon express to Glasgow, and there's ten guineas for you and two for each of the crew." Then the surly Scotoh skipper raised his rough hand excitedly. "Na. sir," he cried. I wouldna do what I thought wrong for twice ten guineas. Keep yer siller, mon. I ask yer pardon for having doubted ye. Now then, lads, with a will. The order is that we make Oban by twelve to-morrow. Steward, tell the cook there's a leddy on board. There must be some sort of soft pudden at dinner to-night. In a moment everything was in commotion; up rose the anchor, out bellied the sails, and half an hour later the Sylvia, with all canvas spread, glided through the narrow strait, winging her way like some huge white bird for Oban. CHAPTER XXII. I The Courthouse at Mannington was crowded to its utmost capacity on the second day of the trial on a charge of murder of Sir Malcolm Stanton, Bart. In the middle of the first day's hearing, the I presiding judge, oppressed by the stuffy atmo- sphere of the crammed building, had suddenly turned faint, and being seriously indisposed the next morning, the trial had been adjourned until the following day. But now the ghastly business appeared to the numerous sympathisers with the accused man to be proceeding with horrible, inexorable swiftness; and more than one sturdy squire, actually sick with apprehension as the toils closed round the prisoner, had had to push his way quickly out of the vitiated atmosphere, unable to endure longer the awful strain on heart and nerves. And indeed, on this, the second day cf the trial, the evidence against the accused appeared abso- lutely conclusive. On the first day, only two witnesses had been examined: Burrowes the gamekeeper, and the oonstable Myles, who had been directed to arrest the suspected man but the evidence of these two had been overwhelming, and although the pri- soner's counsel had done his best to phake their depositions, by increasing the miserable embar- rassment of the two men, who spoke with the utmost reluctance, he did not benefit his cause in any degree, for—especially in the ease of Bur- rowes-it became obviously evident that the wit- ness was only too much inclined to shield the master to whom he was so entirely devoted, even at the expense of truth. The evidence of Burrowes, in substance, was that at ten o'clock on the eight of the 18th of April, while sitting quietly with his wife in his cottage, he had heard a faint report of firearms— whether it was a pistol or gunshot which he heard he was net prepared to swear; he only knew it was very faint, so faint that his wife, whose ears were not so keen in such matters, did not hear it. The sound seemed to him to come from the direction of the giant oak. He had heard noth- ing suspicious until that moment, and had it happened that he and his wife had been speaking at the instant, the sound was not loud enough to have attracted his attention. Questioned as to why he did not go out imme- diately on hearing the shot, Burrowes seized the opportunity to break into an enthusiastic pane- gyric on his employer, which the prosecuting counsel made no attempt to subdue. Burrowes declared that there had been no doubt in his own mind that the shot was that of a poaoher, but Sir Malcolm Stanton, having always an immense sympathy with the poor, and, moreover, holding j very unusual sentiments on the existing game iaws, had repeatedly given him to understand that, except in very flagrant instances, he would be better pleased not to have to prosecute any- ( one for breaking the law in this way. Therefore the witness had felt he could on this occasion shut his ears to the faint sound, and had done so. ) At this point there was an ominous pause on ) the part of the gamekeeper, and being forced to proceed, the man's voioe sank so low, it was with the utmost difficulty the breathless, eager throng caught the faltering words. Quite early on the morning of April 19th. Bur- rowes experienced his first shock. Going to his son's room as usual to wake. him, he found it empty, and the bed undisturbed. This occasioned him considerable surprise and some alarm, for he knew that the lad had gone to his room with a headache at about twenty minutes past eight the previous evening. He noticed the hour, for the boy had come home just as his wife and he were sitting down to supper. Philip did not enter the kitchen where tho meal was prepared, however, calling out from the pas- sage that he could net cat, but went straight up to his bedroom. An hour afterwards Mrs. Burrowes went to see how the boy was, but returned, saying that his door was locked and the lad evidently asleep. Questioned as to what he thought when he found the room empty, the witness explained that he feared Philip also had heard the shot, and being very venturesome—singularly so considering I his slight lameness—had gone out himself with- out leave, to ascertain what was occurring in the woods. Afterwards this idea was strengthened ly finding that there was a ladder standing against the wall, which the boy might have made use of to get out cf the house without the know- ledge of his parents. From that time, the witness declared, he had heard or seen nothing whatever of his son. Pressed as to how he oould account for the lad's absence, the man turned obstinate-persisting II that he had no notion whatever of the reason for it, but that Phil was no fool, and he had no I fear that any aotual harm had come to him. Burrowes was forced to admit, however, that the boy might have been skilfully kept out of the I way by someone anxious to suppress his evidence. There was another ominous pause here, and then the gamekeeper went on to state with many breaks that, uneasy on his son's account, he had gone out at once, meaning to search the woods, and on reaching the giant oak had discovered the dead body of Rudge. The murdered man was lying upon his back, and near him on the grass was an old red leather letter case, apparently empty. The witness de- claxed he was so horrified by the terrible spectacle that he noticed nothing further, but, on an im- puL-e, rushed out into the highroad, which was only a quarter of a mile distant, with the natural idea of calling for help. There, as chance would, have it, the first man he met was Constable 1yles, and with him he returned at once to the body. Questioned as to whether he had any sus- picions as to the probable murderer, Burrowes at first denied that he had; but being reminded gravely and solemnly that he was on oath, and that he was bound under a heavy penalty to assist the course of justice, the reluctant man, hanging his aead, and crimson with suppressed teeung, confessed that a thought of Sir Malcolm Stanton had just orossed his mind for an instant, for Sir Maicolm and the murdered man were on terms of hot enmity. Myles, tho constable, gave his evidence with professional satisfaction in his own importance, stating that he accompanied the last witness to the giant oak in Feldon Woods at half-past seven on the morning of April 19th, and had seen the body of the man Rudge. Taking careful note of the surrounding ground, under the seat which I encircled the tree he observed thllt the onrth u-aa freshly disturbed, and scratching away the loose mould, he had discovered, a few inches from the surface, a silver-mounted revolver, with five of its chambers still loaded. One chamber, how- ever, was empty, and this he could see had been comparatively recently discharged. Up to this moment Myles had spoken with what, in comparison with the emotion of 1,Lir- rowes, had appeared actual callousness; but new the man's professional stoicism suddenly gt ve way, and coming to the arrest of Sir Malcolm Stanton. he hesitated and faltered pam fully. I The baronet had received him in perfect silence, he said, and had spoken no word whatever in his own dcfence, though he had pic?d?d not guilty to the charge; but his bearing and the expression of his face had been those ,,f cn ii,ro- cent man, and the constable declared with simple earnestness he had never felt so bad in his life as when he had been compelled to arrost, on a capital charge, the most honoured gentleman of the oounty. The Court had adjourned at this point, in con- sequence of the indisposition of the judge; and when the prisoner once more took his place in the dock, the face of every man in the jury box was white and drawn with anxietv. The first witness examined on thgeoond day was George Meadows. L.R.C.S., the local medical man, whom the constable had summoned to view the body before it was moved from the spot where it had been discovered by Burrowes. The roon, locally styled "the Doctor," was a fussy, fatuous, seemingly elderly man, a type of a class common enough in country districts thirty or forty years ago, but now fortunately rarely to be met with. For a man to pass the examinations necessary to obtain his diploma, it might well be imagined that he must be possessed of some culture and brains; but a few years since there were a very j large number of surgeons earning a scanty living in obscure country towns and villages, who, in their general bearing, shewed an entire absence either of education or intelligence, and to this class belonged Mr. George Meadows. Irritation and impatience were to bo seen on every countenance in the court as the vulgarly dressed man gave his evidence, dwelling on the details with the utmost satisfaction, and evidently rejoicing in the sound of his own pompous voice; but no one could deny the horrible importance of what he said. This witness displayed no reluctance in strengthening the case against the prisoner; but there was not a man in the jury box at least to whom "the Doctor" was unfamiliar, and all of them retained a lively recollection of a certain coroner's inquest a year or two back, at which the Doctor" had been severely censured for his inhuman conduct in refusing to attend a man "in extremis" because there was a doubt as to the payment of his fee. Sir Malcolm Stanton, among others, had expressed his sentiments of disgust openly on the occasion, and by doing so had made a secret enemy of "the Doctor" for life. Mr. George Meadows declared that Rudge had died from the effects of a bullet wound in the head; he had himself extracted the bullet from the base of the skull. Asked to produce the bullet, the surgeon admitted that he had inad- vertently mislaid it. He imagined he knew where he had placed it, but it could not be found anywhere. He had seen the revolver discovered in the earth under the seat of the oak, however, and there existed no doubt whatever in his mind that the bullet was exactly similar to those in the five undischarged chambers. The course taken by the bullet, and the Un- scorched oondition of the skin round the wound, proved conclusively to him that the fatal injury was not self-inflicted; and so far as he could judge, the man had been dead for about ten hours when he was called to view the body at 8 a.m. on April 19th. In his opening address, the prosecuting counsel had felt it to be absolutely incumbent on him to allude to the mysterious disappearance of the accused man's wife, as well as to that of the boy Philip Burrowes; and also to point out the fact that Lady Stanton's absence was the more in- criminating circumstance of the two. For while it might be inferred that the boy had been got rid of as a dangerous witness, the flight of the lady must unhappily be regarded in a still more serious light. At the coroner's inquest, and also at the magisterial enquiry, one of the principal witnesses for the prosecution had been prostrated by fever, and utterly unable to give his evidence; but there could be little doubt that Lady Stanton's flight, which this witness would prove had preceded the murder, furnished a probable cause for the com- mittal of the terrible act, for it was well known that there had been grave differences between the murdered man and Sir Malcolm Stanton, and that the prisoner had threatened the man, after a stormy soene in which Lady Stanton declared that Rudge had grossly insulted her. And, the counsel proceeded, it could not be doubted that Kudgo was in possession of some secret dan- gerous to Lady Stanton's reputation, for it was plainly evident to the household at Feldon Park that, after this scene and the instant dismissal of Rudge, the relations between Sir Malcolm and his wife were very strained. Throughout the whole hearing Sir Malcolm Stanton stood in the dock, declining the feat offered to him, with a perfectly impassive counten- ance; but more than one noticed a quick flush pass over his pale face, and a look of commisera- tion come into his eyes, as young William Blunt was helped into the witness-box; and, indeed, there was no one present who did not experience an extra ohi!l of ill omen, as the hapless young fellow raised his head, and with piteous eyes gazed in appeal flitst at the solemn judge, and then at the apprehensive jurymen. But there was no escape for the scared lad he had to speak, and men, and women too, despite the heat of the day, shivered involuntary as they listened to the faint, halting words. The prosecuting counsel dealt very gently with this witness, but he had a stern duty to perform, and the haggard young man actually writhed with misery as one after another of the damning facts were drawn from him. Forced to speak, he told how, a little after nine en the fatal evening, being concealed behind the curtains of the library, he had seen his master enter the room, apparently in a condition of terrible mental distress. For a time Sir Malcolm had remained seated, without removing his hat or overcoat, seemingly exhausted by emotion; and then he had risen, and kneeling down before the fire had been occupied for the space of a minute or two in burning something—what, tho witness could not see—but he heard the prisoner stir the fire more than once, as though there was some difficulty in getting rid of the thing. When that was done, Sir Malcolm had gone out of the room for a minute or so-he imagined into the morning room opposite the study—and return- ing almost immediately, had walked straight to the bureau in the corner of the study; the witness could not see him at this moment, but he heard him opening the drawers as though searching for something, and in another minute Sir Malcolm shut the drawers and came to the table in tho centre of the room. Here the unhappy witness broke down, but after a m nute's delay he was compelled to answer the inexorable question as to what his master held in his hand when he returned to the table and bemcr shewn the revolver unearthed by the witness Myles, he admitted brokenly that it was that. There was no doubt at all in his mind as to the identity of the weapon; he had often polished the jilver mountings of the revolver. William Blunt further deposed how, fearing that something was wrong, he had followed his master, but that, being confused and frightened, a few minutes had elapsed before he could make up his mind to this course, and he had arrived only at the gamekeeper's lodge when he heard the shot 4:1 Aikk I I *°": rlœr tnat ne had no distinct recollection of his own ?proceedmgs. He was terribly i frightened. and he supposed he must have run back to the house, for he had been found lying dressed on his bed the next day, delirious with fever. In his ravings, it appeared he had said things he would sooner have bitten out his tongue than spoken, and so it came about that he  where he did, giving evidence against fhVS master that ever a man had. The poor young fel low burst into sobs at this noint anA i an aufle groaning sigh passed ft?™, i the crowded ?"?- After a minute's stru^e Blunt recovored himself to some extent, and then with bent head ho turned as though to walk out of the box. But his tortures were not over; ere he had taken a step he was recalled, and he started and winced as though cut with a whip when he was commanded to tell the judge and jury all he knew as to the movements of Lady Stanton on the day and evening of the murder. mL xne young man s lace was actually livid, but he was entirely helpless, and in a few minutes all knew how the lady of the house had stolen from it, with her face hidden by a thick black veil, a couple of hours before the shot in the wood, and how a few days previously she had been taken suddenly ill, and had had to retire to bed. and that afterwards Sir Malcolm and he had noticed muddy footprints in the morning room, where she had been alone for some hours, as though someone had entered the room by the window from the garden. It was elicited, too, that on the discovery of the tootprints Sir Malcolm had appeared much dis- turbed, and had gone up at once to his lady's room, but had been denied admittance by the n,aid. who said that her mistress was too unwell to speak to him. At this point the witness collapsed altogether, and had to be carried fainting- out of the court; but the case for the prosecution was closed, and now there was nothing but the speeches of c-ounsel and the summing up of the judg-o. With awful rapidity this business was gone through. The counsel for the Crown was very temperate, merely stating the facts of the case, without enlarging on them; but tho other side had j a perfectly hopeless task. There was not a single weak point in the evidence; the animus between the murdered man and the accused could not be denied, and it was well known that the prisoner had openly threatened the other's life, should he again give him cause of offence. The only circumstance in connection with the case which was not perfectly comprehensible was the statement of the witness William Blunt that his master had been occupied in burning some- thing before he left the house with the revolver. The natural inference was that the prisoner was at that moment destroying something connected with the terrible occurrences of the cv- e iting; but that after all could not be proved, and although it was difficult to account for his actions at this moment, they did not in any way prove him innocent of the crime imputed to him. At three o'clock the jury retired, and in less than a quarter of an hour returned. No one had the slightest hope, and the prisoner's counten- ance did not change a whit, though he drew him- self to his full height and raised his head proudly as the foreman with trembling white lips pro- nounced the fatal word "GniltvAnrI ,"u},n h" was asked if he had anything to say his voice did not even tremble, as in low tones, bowing to the judge, he answered, Nothing, my Ivrd, except to thank you all for the consideration you have shewn to a most un- happy man." "Think again," the other persisted solemnly. Is there nothing you can say? You pleaded not guilty to the charge." The prisoner's expression was most dogged in its determination, as with erect head he replied slowly and calmly. "I pleaded not guilty at the desire of mv counsel. It was merely a form to satisfy him. I have no defence to offer. I have nothing to say for myself." With a heavy sigh, which was almost a groan, the shocked judge remained motionless for a minute, and then with an obvious effort rose and took the horrible black cap in his hand. But the next instant a change came over his face. The door of the court had been opened noisily, and in a moment a breathless excitement had come over the crowded assemblage. There was a loud buzz of voices a general movement, and a minute after the cr)wd parted; crushing each other violently back, an] a. woman, followed closely by a man, rushed up.-Ile narrow path. ) Then for the first time, sinking on t^ chair in the dock, the prisoner uttered a cry jf agony, which was never forgotten by those wh. heard it, and leaning forward hid his quivering' fee. He had recognised her-zll had recognised her. It was Lady Stanton who stood there, haggard and worn, with gleaming eyes and twitoing lips, speechless and panting for breath, an at the sight the prisoner's manhood deseed him altogether. (To be continued.)

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