But she made a gesture of refusal. “Then she was his wife?” asked Mr. Sewell. “No,” said Seth, grimly, “she was neither his nor his lordship’s here. She was mine. We was married years ago, quite boy and girl like. She was a reckless one, was Bella. I allus told her that she’d get into trouble with her desperate ways, but she took no heed of anybody. She’d have married twenty times over, to get money. She was my wife, true and fast enough.” Faradeane made a strange and involuntary movement; it was the gesture of a man who had suddenly been relieved from an intolerable, galling burden--a burden weighing down the soul, instead of the body. “What followed when Lord Clydesfold came up?” inquired Mr. Sewell. He used the word “prisoner” no longer. Seth told them, and the recital of Faradeane’s great sacrifice of self, of honor, of life, for the woman he loved, so thrilled the crowded court that it was in vain the usher shouted “Silence!” “It was for her, the lady, Miss Olivia, he did it,” said Seth. “He’d have hung rather than let her be pointed at as the wife of a murderer.” The judge held up his hand to still the murmur of excitement. “Silence!” he said. “The court shall be cleared if these demonstrations are repeated. Why did you not appear before, and tell us what you have now told us?” he demanded of Seth, sternly. Seth hung his head, then looked furtively this way and that. “I’m a poor man,” he whined, “and he said he’d give me a thousand pounds. Curse him!” he snarled, with a sudden change of voice and manner. “A thousand pounds! And he did! Yes! And when I takes it to the bank, they laughs at me. He’d drawed all the money, every penny,” and he shook the check in the air. Mr. Edgar deftly seized it, glanced at it, and handed it to the judge. “Then when I come outside, vowing as I’ll go for him and settle him, this gentleman collared me, and brought me down,” and he pointed to McAndrew. The judge passed the check to the jury without a word. There were some among them who had often seen Bartley Bradstone’s writing, and they recognized it instantly. “When did you see Mr. Bartley Bradstone last?” asked Mr. Edgar, springing to his feet. “At his own house, the night afore last!” said Seth. Amazement again. “At his own house!” said Mr. Edgar. “My lord”--and he turned quickly to the judge--“I ask for a warrant, for the arrest of Bartley Bradstone.” Mr. McAndrew looked up gravely. “That’s been done already,” he said. “Have you any other evidence?” said the judge. “Can you call some one, produce something confirmatory of this man’s testimony?” Before he could reply a commotion arose in the corridor, and, with much shouting and talking and pushing to and fro, a policeman entered, followed closely by Bessie. He went up to Mr. McAndrew, and said something, amid a dead silence; then Mr. Sewell very gravely and solemnly said: