it in time. It was like a
furious gust of words sweeping over the court.

Mr. Whitworth, pale with anger, merely said: "Madam, the good taste of
these remarks I leave the court to decide upon. But you cannot be
allowed to give evidence in your own defence."

"No, but in hers I will," said Mrs. Gaunt. "No power shall hinder me."

_Judge_ (coldly). Had you not better go on cross-examining the witness?

_Whitworth._ Let me see your marriage-certificate, if you have one?

It was handed to him.

Well, now how do you know that this Thomas Leicester was Griffith Gaunt?

_Judge._ Why, she has told you he confessed it to her.

_Mercy._ Yes, my lord; and, besides, he wrote me two letters signed
Thomas Leicester. Here they are, and I desire they may be compared with
the paper he wrote last Wednesday, and signed Griffith Gaunt. And more
than that, whilst we lived together as man and wife, one Hamilton, a
travelling painter, took our portraits, his and mine. I have brought his
with me. Let his friends and neighbors look on this portrait, and say
whose likeness it is. What I say and swear is, that on Wednesday last I
saw and spoke with that Thomas Leicester, or Griffith Gaunt, whose
likeness I now show you.

With that she lifted the portrait up, and showed it all the court.

Instantly there was a roar of recognition.

It was one of those hard daubs that are nevertheless so monstrously like
the originals.

_Judge_ (to Mr. Whitworth). Young gentleman, we are all greatly obliged
to you. You have made the prisoner's case. There was but one weak point
in it; I mean the prolonged absence of Griffith Gaunt. You have now
accounted for that. You have forced a very truthful witness to depose
that this Gaunt is himself a criminal, and is hiding from fear of the
law. The case for the crown is a mere tissue of conjectures, on which no
jury could safely convict, even if there was no defence at all. Under
other circumstances I might decline to receive evidence at second-hand
that Griffith Gaunt is alive. But here such evidence is sufficient, for
it lies on the crown to prove the man dead; but you have only proved
that he was alive on the fifteenth of October, and that since then
somebody is dead with shoes on. This somebody appears on the balance of
proof to be Thomas Leicester, the pedler; and he has never been heard of
since, and Griffith Gaunt has. Then I say you cannot carry the case
further. You have not a leg to stand on. What sa