Pearce, snatching up a bundle and a portmanteau, escaped by the window; she had not nerve enough to attempt it, and crawled back to her bedroom, where she, watching the doings of the farmer through the chinks of the partition which separated her room from the passage, concocted the story which convicted the prisoners.  Pearce thinking himself pursued, too heavily encumbered for rapid flight, left the portmanteau as described, intending to call for it in the morning, if his fears proved groundless.  He, however, had not courage to risk calling again, and made the best of his way to London.  He was now in Newgate under sentence of death for a burglary, accompanied by personal violence to the inmates of the dwelling he and his gang had entered and robbed.  I took care to have the deposition of the dying wretch put into proper form; and the result was, after a great deal of petitioning and worrying of authorities, a full pardon for both Armstrong and his wife.  They sold Craig Farm, and removed to some other part of the country, where, I never troubled myself to inquire.  Deeply grateful was I to be able at last to wash my hands of an affair, which had cost me so much anxiety and vexation; albeit the lesson it afforded me of not coming hastily to conclusions, even when the truth seems, as it were, upon the surface of the matter, has not been, I trust, without its uses.

THE CONTESTED MARRIAGE.

I had just escaped to my chambers one winter afternoon from a heavy trial “at bar” in the King’s Bench, Westminster, and was poring over a case upon which an “opinion” was urgently solicited, when my clerk entered with a letter which he had been requested to deliver by a lady, who had called twice before during the day for the purpose of seeing me.  Vexed at the interruption, I almost snatched the letter from the man’s hand, hastily broke the seal, and to my great surprise found it was from my excellent old friend Sir Jasper Thornely of Thornely Hall, Lancashire.  It ran as follows:—­

“My Dear ——­, The bearer of this note is a lady whom I am desirous of serving to the utmost extent of my ability.  That she is really the widow she represents herself to be, and her son consequently heir to the magnificent estates now in possession of the Emsdales—­you remember how they tripped up my heels at the last election for the borough of ------ I have no moral doubt whatever; but whether her claim can be legally established is another affair.  She will tell you the story herself.  It was a heartless business; but Sir Harry, who, you have no doubt heard, broke his neck in a steeple-chase about ten months ago, was a sad wild dog.  My advice is, to look out for a sharp, clever, persevering attorney, and set him upon a hunt for evidence.  If he succeed, I undertake to pay him a thousand pounds over and above his legal costs.  He’ll nose it out for that, I should think!—­Yours, truly,

“Jasper Thornely.