“Oh!” whispered Lady Temple, “is it not horrid?  Is nothing to be done to that dreadful man?  I always thought people came here to do justice.  I shall never like Sir Edward Morden again!  But, oh! what can that be?  Where is the Colonel?”

It was a loud, frightful roar and yell, a sound of concentrated fury that, once heard, could never be forgotten.  It was from the crowd outside, many of them from Avonmouth, and all frantic with indignation at the cruelty that had been perpetrated upon the helpless children.  Their groans and execrations were pursuing the prison van, from which Maria Hatherton was at that moment making her exit, and so fearful was the outcry that penetrated the court, that Fanny trembled with recollections of Indian horrors, looked wistfully for her protector the Colonel, and murmured fears that her aunt must have been very much terrified.

At that moment, however, a summons came for Lady Temple, as this was the case in which she was to bear witness.  Alison followed, and was no sooner past the spectators, who gladly made way, than she found her arm drawn into Colonel Keith’s.  “Is he come?” she asked.  “No,” was rather signed than spoken.  “Oh, Colin!” she sighed, but still there was no reply, only she was dragged on, downstairs and along dark passages, into a room furnished with a table, chairs, pens, ink, and paper, and lighted with gas, which revealed to her not only Mr. Grey, but one who, though eight years had made him stouter, redder, and rougher, had one of the moat familiar faces of her youthful days.  Her senses almost reeled with her as he held out his hand, saying heartily, “Well, Ailie, how are you? and how is Ermine?  Where can this brother of yours be?”

“Harry!  Mr. Beauchamp!  You here!” she exclaimed, in the extremity of amazement.

“Here is Colin seeming to think that something may be done towards nailing this scoundrel for the present, so I am come at his call.  We shall have the fellow in a moment.”  And then, by way of getting rid of embarrassment, he began talking to Mr. Grey about the County Hall, and the room, which Mr. Grey explained to be that of the clerk of the peace, lent for this occasion while the usual justice room was occupied, Alison heard all as in a dream, and presently Mauleverer entered, as usual spruce, artist-like, and self-possessed, and was accosted by Harry Beauchamp, “Good evening, Mr. Maddox, I am sorry to trouble you.”

“I hope there is no misunderstanding, sir,” was the reply.  “I have not the pleasure of knowing for whom you take me.”

Without regarding this reply, however, Mr. Beauchamp requested Mr. Grey to take his deposition, stating his own belief in the identity of the person before him with Richard Maddox, whom he charged with having delivered to him a letter falsely purporting to come from Edward Williams, demanding three hundred pounds, which upon this he had delivered to the accused, to be forwarded to the said Mr. Williams.