'We will proceed with the case against Ephraim Beamish,' said the chairman; 'and the Bench hopes that the constables will not be remiss in their duty, nor relax their efforts to obtain possession of his body, and lodge him in prison—that is, should his case be proved.' The evidence produced did satisfy the Bench that Beamish should be remitted to the hands of the Special Commission. Then Mark Runham was called, and at once placed in the dock. Zita looked at him. She could see that he was not altogether confident that his innocence would be acknowledged. He strove to disguise his anxiety, but ineffectually. He was bewildered at the charge laid against him, and troubled at finding himself in a novel and unpleasant situation. The depositions having been read over, Hezekiah Drownlands, of Prickwillow, was ordered to stand in the witness-box, for it was he who had lodged information against Mark. Zita immediately elbowed her way to the front, and, resting her elbow on the rail that limited the portion of the court accessible to the public, looked steadily into the face of the master. She was resolved to check and correct his statements, so that they should not tell unfavourably against the prisoner. Drownlands noticed her, but refrained from meeting her eye. He gave his evidence with hesitation and confusedly, for he had laid information against Mark Runham, and was now seeking to minimise the charge and weaken the force of his own accusations. 'I was in my office,' said Drownlands, 'on that same evening, and was talking with—with Zita there,'—he pointed with his thumb towards the girl, but without looking at her,—'when I heard the voices of the rioters.' 'Stay a moment,' said the chairman, interposing. 'Who may this Zita be?' The chairman was a merry, red-faced man, a gentleman who had been brother to a former Dean, and had obtained from that Dean a lease of a large tract of ecclesiastical property for ninety-nine years at a nominal rent, and who resided and had become wealthy in Ely. 'I refer,' said Drownlands, 'to that young woman. She lives in my house.' The eyes of the Bench and of the audience were directed towards the girl. 'Oh!' said the chairman. 'Rather young for a housekeeper, eh?' 'She is not my housekeeper.' 'In what capacity, then, may we regard her as residing with you?' Drownlands hesitated. 'Come, come! Don't be reticent, Mr. Drownlands.' 'I really cannot say.' 'Shall we say she is a sort of—ahem—companion?' A titter ran through the court. 'I am a lodger,' said Zita. 'I pay my way.' 'Silence!' ordered the chief constable. 'You shall speak in your turn,' said the chairman, 'and no doubt you will be able to give us valuable evidence, but you must not interrupt, you understand.' Then, turning to the witness, and chuckling and becoming purple with his suppressed laughter, the chairman said, 'Very well, Mr. Drownlands, go on. We commend your taste. You were talking with your pretty companion, or lodger.'