He told the court that the deceased James Wilson, as became him according to the duty of his secret office, had been a very zealous person.  In his legal capacity he had sought and obtained a warrant for the arrest of the prisoner Ray.  That warrant had never been served.  Why?  The dead body of Wilson had been found at daybreak in a lonely road not far from the homes of both prisoners.  The warrant was not on the body.  It had been missing to that day.  His contention would be that the prisoners had obtained knowledge of the warrant; that they had waylaid the deceased agent in a place and at a time most convenient for the execution of their murderous design.  With the cunning of clever criminals, they had faced the subsequent coroner’s inquiry.  One of them, being the less artful, had naturally come under suspicion.  The other, a cunning and dangerous man, had even taken an active share in defending his confederate.  But being pursued by a guilty conscience, they dared not stay at the scene of their crime, and both had fled from their homes.  All this would be justified by strong and undeniable circumstances.

Counsel resumed his seat amid the heavy breathings and inaudible mutterings of the throng behind him.  He was proceeding to call his witnesses, when Ralph asked to be heard.

“Is it the fact that I surrendered of my own free will and choice?”

“It is.”  “Is it assumed that I was prompted to that step also by a guilty conscience?”

Counsel realized that he was placed on the horns of a dilemma.  Ignoring Ralph, he said,—­

“My lords, the younger prisoner did surrender.  He surrendered to a warrant charging him with conspiring to subvert the King’s authority.  He threw himself on the mercy of his Sovereign, and claimed the benefit of the pardon.  And why?  To save himself from indictment on the capital charge; at the price, peradventure, of a fine or a year’s imprisonment to save himself from the gallows.  Thus he tried to hoodwink the law; but, my lords,”—­and counsel lifted himself to his utmost height,—­“the law is not to be hoodwinked.”

“God forfend else!” echoed Justice Millet, shifting in his seat and nodding his head with portentous gravity.

“I was loath to interrupt you,” said Justice Hide, speaking calmly and for the first time, “or I should have pointed out wherein your statement did not correspond with the facts of the prisoner Ray’s conduct as I know it.  Let us without delay hear the witnesses.”

The first witness called was a woman thinly and poorly clad, who came to the box with tears in her eyes, and gave the name of Margaret Rushton.  Ralph recognized her as the young person who had occasioned a momentary disturbance near the door towards the close of the previous trial.  Sim recognized her also, but his recollection dated farther back.

She described herself as the wife of a man who had been outlawed, and whose estates had been sequestered.  She had been living the life of a vagrant woman.