I am not going to give you the full story of Vivie’s trial.  I have got so much else to say about her, before I can leave her in a quiet backwater of middle age, that this must be a story which has gaps to be filled up by the reader’s imagination.  You can, besides, read for yourself elsewhere—­for this is a thinly veiled chronicle of real events—­how she was charged, and how the magistrate refused bail though it was offered in large amounts by Rossiter and Praed, the latter with Mrs. Warren’s purse behind him.  How she was first lodged in Brixton Prison and at length appeared in the dock at the Old Bailey before a Court that might have been set for a Cinematograph.  There was a judge with a full-bottomed wig, a scarlet and ermine vesture, there was a jury of prosperous shopkeepers, retired half pay officers, a hotelkeeper or two, a journalist, an architect, and a builder.  A very celebrated King’s Counsel prosecuted—­the Cabinet thus said to the Racing World “We’ve done all we can”—­and Vivie defended herself with the aid of a clever solicitor whom Bertie Adams had found for her.

From the very moment of her arrest, Bertie Adams had refused—­even though they took away his salary—­to think of anything but Vivie’s trial and how she might issue from it triumphant.  He must have lost a stone in weight.  He was ready to give evidence himself, though he was really quite unconcerned with the offences for which Vivie was on trial; prepared to swear to anything; to swear he arranged the conflagrations; that Miss Warren had really been in London when witness had seen her purchasing explosives at Newmarket (both stories were equally untrue).  Bertie Adams only asked to be allowed to perjure himself to the tune of Five Years’ penal servitude if that would set Vivie free.  Yet at a word or a look from her he became manageable.

The Attorney General of course began something like this.  “I am very anxious to impress on you,” he said, addressing the jury, “that from the moment we begin to deal with the facts of this case, all questions of whether a woman is entitled to the Parliamentary franchise, whether she should have the same right of franchise as a man are matters which in no sense are involved in the trial of this issue.  All you have to decide is whether the prisoner in the dock committed or procured and assisted others to commit the very serious acts of arson of which she is accused...”

Nevertheless he or the hounds he kept in leash, the lesser counsel, sought subtly to prejudice the jury’s mind against Vivie by dragging in her parentage and the eccentricities of her own career.  As thus:—­

Counsel for the prosecution:  “We have in you the mainspring of this rebellious movement...”

Vivie:  “Have you?”

Counsel:  “Are you not the daughter of the notorious Mrs. Warren?”

Vivie:  “My mother’s name certainly is Warren.  For what is she notorious?”