“You must put in the letter, Mr. Edgar; the prosecution, the jury, all of us must see it, please.” “As your lordship pleases,” said Mr. Edgar, resignedly, and he held out the letter. Mr. Sewell’s face cleared. “My lord,” he said, “the letter is evidence, such as it is, on the side of the prosecution,” and he read it. “Where is this Mr. Bradstone?” inquired the judge, sternly. “One moment!” put in Mr. Edgar. “Do you know if Mr. Bradstone was aware of Lord Clydesfold’s affection for you?” Olivia’s face flushed, then grew white again. “He may have known.” “Had Lord Clydesfold and Mr. Bradstone ever quarreled?” “Yes,” she faltered, clutching the front of the witness-box. “So that I should not be far wrong if I said that Mr. Bradstone bore Lord Clydesfold a grudge?” “No,” dropped almost inaudibly from her white lips. Mr. Edgar bowed with deep respect. “Thank you, madam.” As she left the box Bertie and the squire took her hands. “You will leave the court now?” whispered Bertie. She shook her head. “I cannot! I cannot!” and they took her back to her old seat. Mr. Sewell rose, and in a few words seemed to scatter Mr. Edgar’s defense to the winds. The evidence for the prosecution was complete, unanswerable. If there had ever been any doubt in the minds of the jury on the score of motive, Mr. Edgar had supplied it. Lord Clydesfold was in love with Miss Vanley, and married to this gypsy, and he, driven desperate, had rid himself of his lawful wife. He called upon the jury to find the prisoner guilty. Then, amid a solemn silence, the judge arranged his notes and summed up. It was evident to all that he put forward every iota in favor of the prisoner; but the awful evidence of his presence by the body, his connection with the deceased, the revolver, and his blood-stained clothes, the judge was compelled to give; and it was evidence which Mr. Edgar had not been able to overweigh by rebutting testimony. The crowd grew pale in the intensity of their excitement and suspense, and the jury were rising to leave the box, when a loud noise was heard at the entrance of the court, and a smooth-faced, commonplace-looking man was seen to push his way through the throng, followed by a dark, sinister-looking man, who, as he advanced, looked from right to left in a furtive, half-suspicious, half-frightened way. “McAndrew!” muttered Mr. Sewell; “where on earth has he been, and what is he doing? We have got a conviction!” McAndrew--for it was he--went straight for Mr. Sewell, and whispered to him, and an eager dispute followed between them. “Eh?” then said Mr. Sewell. “Oh, if you like, I don’t care!” Then he looked up to the bench. “My lord, the only desire of the Crown is that the truth of this matter should be made apparent. I call Seth Lee!” The judge looked and frowned, and held up his hand. “You may call him,” he said. CHAPTER XXXVI. A FORGERY.