She was a tall, sharp-featured, angular, bony woman; her cast of features and general contour denoted inflexible determination. Peace presented a most rueful appearance; two plasters covered the large and painful bumps on his head. His face gave unmistakable evidence of the blow received from the housemaid’s mop. Mrs. Pocklington, the prosecutrix, had engaged a solicitor to conduct the case. After the usual formalities had been gone through, the gentleman in question rose and briefly narrated the circumstances which had led to the capture of the prisoner on the preceding night. Mrs. Pocklington was then put into the box, and gave a succinct account of all that had transpired. “Upon my word, Mrs. Pocklington,” said the chairman, when the lady had concluded, “it would appear that you are well able to protect yourself.” “I hope I am,” returned Mrs. Pocklington, sharply. “It is not the first time an attempt has been made to break into my house.” “I never attempted to break into her house, gentlemen,” cried Peace. “Don’t believe what she says; she’s almost killed me.” “What were you doing at the front of her residence, then? And what right had you to be there at all? It is clearly a case of attempted burglary, but you had better reserve your defence; we have other witnesses to examine.” “Thank you, sir,” said Peace; “I will not make any further observations at present.” The servant girl was now placed in the box. She corroborated the evidence given by her mistress. The two constables were next examined. They proved that the large lock of the door had been forced open――proved also that housebreaking instruments were found upon the prisoner, together with a bunch of skeleton keys――“and all these facts pointed to one conclusion,” said Mrs. Pocklington’s lawyer――“namely, that the prisoner is a professional burglar.” Unfortunately for Peace, this was proved beyond all question. A detective was placed in the box, who said he knew the prisoner well, that he had undergone one month’s imprisonment in December, 1851. Peace denied this in a most positive manner; nevertheless his assertions had but little effect upon the bench, who decided upon sending the case for trial. “I’ve been punished quite enough, I should think,” ejaculated Peace, “considering I never intended to rob the house――but――” “If you take my advice,” said one of the stipendiary magistrates, “you will reserve your defence. Anything you say now will be given in evidence against you, and it will in no way effect our decision. If you have a legal defence, reserve it till your trial comes on at the sessions. Do not prejudice your case by offering any observations.” “I am obliged to you, sir, for your advice,” returned Peace “I have a defence, but if you have decided upon sending it to the sessions it is no use of my speaking now. Before I go, however, I hereby solemnly declare that that wicked old woman has not spoken the truth; she has committed perjury.”