It does happen sometimes that a perfectly innocent man is committed for trial, and it does appear hard, not to say unjust, that he should be subjected to the many indignities and privations which prisoners have to endure. The law holds that every man is innocent till he is found guilty, and there should certainly be some better arrangement in respect to prisoners who are awaiting their trial. We question much whether it is advisable for them to be sent to the same prison with others who are convicted. Many a man at the close of his trial has left the court “without a stain upon his character.” Yet he has had to pass through a painful ordeal, which possibly he will not forget for the remainder of his life. This ought not to be. Men untried should be treated very differently from the way they are so long as they are kept secure from escape; the main object of their detention is effected. But a man who is unjustly accused, sent to prison, and afterwards proved innocent, bears with him the unpleasant reflection that some mischievous and evil-disposed person is sure to be found who will whisper mysteriously to others “So-and-so was charged with larceny, but he was acquitted.” With some persons the very fact of having been accused would be prejudicial, but these are things the reader may perhaps exclaim, “It is not possible for the wisest of us to prevent!” Granted; but that is no reason why every precaution should not be taken to protect the innocent man. These observations, however, do not apply to such hardened offenders as Peace, who is included in the category of habitual criminals, or, to make use of a stronger term, professional thieves. CHAPTER XVIII. PRISONERS AWAITING TRIAL――THE ASSIZES――PEACE’S DEFENCE. Peace, as may readily be imagined, deplored having made an attempt to enter the “Gothic Cottage” in the occupation of Mrs. Pocklington. He came to the conclusion that that was one of the most stupid things he had ever been guilty of. His first night in the county gaol was by no means an agreeable one. The first night in any prison is generally one of bitterness and gall to the unhappy prisoners; but our hero felt humiliated at the contemptible part he had been playing to be knocked about by an old woman until he was rendered nearly senseless, and in that state to be captured without even making an attempt to escape, was most aggravating. The more he reflected upon the matter the more humiliated did he feel. His sleep was broken and disturbed during the greater portion of the night. At six o’clock in the morning he was aroused by the resonant sound of a large bell. He arose and hurried on his clothes. The door of his cell was thrown open by a stalwart warder, who passed on to make room for the deputy governor and another warder. This last-named personage carried in his hand a large book. “Do you wish to see the doctor?” inquired the governor.