It was one of those hard daubs that are nevertheless so monstrously like the originals. _The Judge_ (to Mr. Whitworth). Young gentleman, we are all greatly obliged to you. You have made the prisoner's case. There was but one weak point in it; I mean the prolonged absence of Griffith Gaunt. You have now accounted for that. You have forced a very truthful witness to depose that this Gaunt is himself a criminal, and is hiding from fear of the law. The case for the Crown is a mere tissue of conjectures, on which no jury could safely convict, even if there was no defense at all. Under other circumstances I might decline to receive evidence at second hand that Griffith Gaunt is alive; but here such evidence is sufficient, for it lies on the Crown to prove the man dead; but you have only proved that he was alive on the fifteenth of October, and that, since then, _somebody_ is dead with shoes on. This somebody appears on the balance of proof to be Thomas Leicester, the pedlar; and he has never been heard of since, and Griffith Gaunt has. Then I say you cannot carry the case farther. You have not a leg to stand on. What say you, brother Wiltshire? _Wiltshire._ My lord, I think there is no case against the prisoner, and am thankful to your lordship for relieving me of a very unpleasant task. The question of guilty or not guilty was then put as a matter of form to the jury, who instantly brought the prisoner in not guilty. _The Judge._ Catherine Gaunt, you leave this court without a stain, and with our sincere respect and sympathy. I much regret the fear and pain you have been put to: you have been terribly punished for a hasty word. Profit now by this bitter lesson; and may heaven enable you to add a well-governed spirit to your many virtues and graces. He half rose from his seat, and bowed courteously to her. She curtsied reverently, and retired. He then said a few words to Mercy Vint. "Young woman, I have no words to praise you as you deserve. You have shown us the beauty of the female character, and, let me add, the beauty of the Christian religion. You have come a long way to clear the innocent. I hope you will not stop there; but also punish the guilty person, on whom we have wasted so much pity." "Me, my lord," said Mercy, "I would not harm a hair of his head for as many guineas as there be hairs in mine." "Child," said my lord, "thou art too good for this world: but go thy ways; and God bless thee." Thus abruptly ended a trial that, at first, had looked so formidable for the accused. The Judge now retired for some refreshment, and while he was gone, Sir George Neville dashed up to the Town Hall, four in hand, and rushed in by the magistrate's door, with a pedlar's pack, which he had discovered in the mere, a few yards from the spot where the mutilated body was found. He learned the prisoner was already acquitted. He left the pack with the sheriff, and begged him to show it to the judge; and went in search of Mrs. Gaunt.