“Yes,” answered Frances.  And my heart almost leaped out of my mouth in fear that her next word would mean death to an innocent man.

“You may state whether George Hamilton was one of the highwaymen who attacked and killed Roger Wentworth.”

Frances paused for perhaps ten seconds, but the time seemed an hour to me, and I remember wondering how the Quaker felt.

“No,” she answered, in a voice clear as a bell and without a flutter of hesitancy.

It could easily be seen that her answer surprised the court and the king’s counsel, and as the king glanced up to Crofts, who was standing by his side, I noticed a queer expression which seemed to say that the evidence was not what they had expected.

The king’s counsel held a brief whispered consultation with the judge, who spoke privately to the king, and suddenly Frances was told that the proceedings were over.  Evidently the king had refused to have her questioned further, fearing, no doubt, that she might testify to having recognized the real culprits.

After the court had risen, we were perhaps ten minutes making our way from the courtroom, and when we came to the coaches which were to take us to our barge, I saw the Quaker standing near by.  He wore colored spectacles.  He was Hamilton.  As I passed the Quaker, I said to Frances loud enough for him to hear:—­

“I shall go to see Betty each Sabbath evening hereafter.”

Frances looked up in surprise at my apparently senseless remark, but I did not explain its significance, and she remained in ignorance of the fact that Hamilton had just heard her make what she supposed to be a false oath for his sake.  Soon after we reached the palace, my cousin and I walked out to the park, and after a long meditative silence, she asked:—­

“Was I guilty of a great sin in making a false oath on the book?”

“No,” I answered.  “Because you swore to the truth, not only in the spirit, but in the letter.  Hamilton was not one of the highwaymen who attacked and killed Roger Wentworth.”

“Ah, but I saw him and recognized him,” she answered.

“Why, then, did you make oath that you did not?” I asked.

“I have been asking myself the same question over and over,” she returned.  Then after a long pause.  “I deliberately swore falsely.  I did recognize him by the light of the lanthorn.  I wish I had never seen him, but having known him as I did at one time, I almost wish that I could have remained in ignorance of his guilt.  Would that the lanthorn had been dark so that I could not have seen him.”

“I do not deny that you saw him, Frances, but I do deny that you saw him attack Roger Wentworth.  Hamilton was two hundred yards down the road when Roger was killed.  If not, he has lied to me, and, with all his faults, I have always found him truthful.”