At this the people burst out into a loud agitated murmur, and their heads went to and fro all the time. In vain the crier cried and threatened. The noise rose and surged, and took its course. It went down gradually, as amazement gave way to curiosity; and then there was a remarkable silence; and then the silvery voice of the prisoner, and the mellow tones of the witness, appeared to penetrate the very walls of the building, each syllable of those two beautiful speakers was heard so distinctly. _Prisoner._ Be so good as to tell the court what passed on Wednesday last between Griffith Gaunt and you, relative to this charge of murder. _Mercy._ I let him know one George Neville had come from Cumberland in search of him, and had told me you lay in Carlisle gaol charged with his murder. I did urge him to ride at once to Carlisle, and show himself; but he refused. He made light of the matter. Then I told him, not so; the circumstances looked ugly, and your life was in peril. Then he said, nay, 'twas in no peril, for, if you were to be found guilty, then he would show himself on the instant. Then I told him he was not worthy the name of a man; and if he would not go, I would. "Go you, by all means," said he, "and I'll give you a writing that will clear her. Jack Houseman will be there, that knows my hand; and so does the sheriff, and half the grand jury at the least." _Prisoner._ Have you that writing? _Mercy._ To be sure I have. Here 'tis. _Prisoner._ Be pleased to read it. _The Judge._ Stay a minute. Shall you prove it to be his handwriting? _Prisoner._ Ay, my lord, by as many as you please. _The Judge._ Then let that stand over for the present. Let me see it. It was handed up to him; and he showed it to the sheriff, who said he thought it was Griffith Gaunt's writing. The paper was then read out to the jury. It ran as follows:--