motley
crowd which had come to see him tried. During the time the charge was
being read, and just as he had discovered his companion in the throng
straight before him, he was challenged by the Clerk of the Crown to
plead.

"King of the Peak," cried the officer of the law, "hold up thine hand.
Thou art accused of the murder of Mary Durden, spinster. Art thou
guilty or art thou not guilty?"

Instinctively he held up his hand as directed, and in a bold and
fearless voice which echoed along the passages answered, "_Not
guilty_."

As soon as he had uttered the words he remembered that he had done
wrong, but it was too late to recall it now, and filled with no
pleasant forebodings by learning that the one who had just stepped out
of the place in which he had stood had been committed to the Tower, he
watched the swearing-in of the jury with stolid indifference.

It was soon evident that something was wrong somewhere. The minions
of the court rushed hither and thither in the utmost haste; messages
passed from the Judge to the clerks who sat at the table below; and
by-and-bye the fact leaked out that neither the prosecutor nor the
witnesses were in attendance.

"Nathan Grene," called the clerk, "stand forth." There was no answer.

"Nathan Grene," he repeated in a louder voice, "come forward and
accuse this man."

The cry was taken up both inside the hall and without; but still no
Nathan Grene appeared, nor was he likely to, for at that time he was
sitting securely in the stocks; the sport of every passer-by, and
the delight of some little mischievous urchins, who were amusing
themselves by pulling his hair and sprinkling him with dirty water,
while he was powerless to defend himself in any way.

"Nathan Grene," exclaimed the Judge in tones of awful dignity, "you
are called upon to support the charge of murder against the King of
the Peak; a charge made by yourself. This is the last time thou wilt
be summoned to answer, and unless you now appear, or afterwards show
good, full, and sufficient cause for thine absence, the law shall turn
its course on thee."

The long silence which followed this speech was broken only by the
Judge, who rose again from his seat, and turning to Sir George told
him he was free; and amid the congratulations of his friends and the
concealed disappointment of his enemies, he passed triumphantly out of
the hall which had proved so fatal to so many of the nobility before
him, as it has also do