re to interrupt.

"I had to be in attendance at the Central Criminal Court last Tuesday,"
he continued; "and the case in which I was interested was delayed by
one in which the prisoner on trial was a young fellow whom you know."

It was very silly of me, but the revulsion of feeling was so great that
I nearly cried, though goodness only knows what I had been expecting.
The Cynic saw my emotion and mistook it for sympathy.

"I was afraid it would trouble you," he said kindly, "but you must not
worry about it.

"The charge was quite an ordinary one and I had scarcely listened to
the case at all, for my mind was occupied with what was to follow, but
I heard sufficient to know that the man was one of a gang of sharpers,
and that he had been caught red-handed whilst his companions had
escaped. He had no one to defend him, but the judge nominated a junior
who was present to be his counsel, and the lad did his best for him.
But the youth had been in trouble before, and it was likely to go hard
with him. All at once my neighbour nudged me: 'He's meaning you,
Derwent,' he said.

"'What's that?' I asked.

"'I have just asked the prisoner if he has anyone who can speak to his
character, and he says you know him slightly,' said the recorder with a
smile.

"'To the best of my knowledge I never saw the man in my life before,' I
replied.

"'Yes, you have, Mr. Derwent,' the prisoner said in a low voice--and
you will understand what silence there was in the court--'you have seen
me working at Windyridge 'All, sir, afore I sank to this. You
remember, sir, I was allus known as Ginty.'"

I started, and the Cynic continued: "I looked at him closely then, and
saw that it was indeed he, Ginty, ten years older than he was a year
ago: haggard, seamed with lines of care, unkempt, but, unless I am
mistaken, not altogether hardened.

"I turned to the recorder. 'I do know the prisoner, sir,' I said, 'but
I did not recognise him, and therefore I have not paid attention to the
case;' and as briefly as I could I told the court how he had been led
astray. It was you, Miss Holden, who described it all so graphically,
you may remember, and I repeated the story as you told it, and I
pleaded hard for the young chap. He got off with three months, which
was less than might have been expected."

"Poor Ginty!" I interrupted. "I wonder if his mother will hear of it.
I suppose news of that kind rarely filters through the walls of a
workhous