sheriff
re-entered, and, making his way to the bench, handed a book to Justice
Hide. At the same instant Sim's attention seemed to be arrested to the
most feverish alertness. Jumping up from the seat on which Ralph had
placed him, he cried out in a thin shrill voice, calling on the
witness to remain. There was breathless silence in the court.

"You say that your brother," cried Sim,--"God in heaven, what a
monster he was!--you say that he left his wife and family. Tell us,
did he ever go back to them?"

"No."

"Did you ever hear of money that your brother's wife came into after
he'd deserted her--that was what he did, your lordships, deserted her
and her poor babby--did you ever hear of it?"

"What if I did?" replied the witness, who was apparently too much
taken by surprise to fabricate a politic falsehood.

"Did you know that the waistrel tried to get hands on the money for
himself?"

Sim was screaming out his questions, the sweat standing in round drops
on his brow. The judges seemed too much amazed to remonstrate.

"Tell us, quick. Did he try to get hands on it?"

"Perhaps; what then?"

"And did he get it?"

"No."

"And why not--why not?"

The anger of the witness threw him off his guard.

"Because a cursed scoundrel stepped in and threatened to hang him if
he touched the woman's money."

"Aye, aye! and who was that cursed scoundrel?"

No answer.

"Who, quick, who?"

"That man there!" pointing to Ralph.

Loud murmurs came from the people in the court. In the midst of them a
woman was creating a commotion. She insisted on going out. She cried
aloud that she would faint. It was Mrs. Garth again. The sheriff
leaned over the table to ask if these questions concerned the inquiry,
but Sim gave no time for protest. He never paused to think if his
inquiries had any bearing on the issue.

"And now tell the court your name."

"I have told it."

"Your _true_ name, and your brother's."

Justice Hide looked steadily at the witness. He held an open book in
his hand.

"Your _true_ name," he said, repeating Sim's inquiry.

"Mark Garth!" mumbled the witness. The judge appeared to expect that
reply.

"And your brother's?"

"Wilson Garth."

"Remove the perjurer in charge."

Sim sank back exhausted, and looked about him as one who had been
newly awakened from a dream.

The feeling among the spectators, as also among the jurors, wavered
between sympathy for the accused and certainty of the trut