The trial of George Heritage for breaking into his own father’s house and, in conjunction with some person not in custody, carrying off jewellery and other articles of value, made an enormous sensation, and the accounts were eagerly perused by all classes of readers. They penetrated even to the society honoured by the presence of Mr. Boss Knivett, and that young gentleman took the liveliest interest in the proceedings, communicating all the facts with the greatest gusto to Mr. Josh Heckett who unfortunately was not able to read them for himself, having in early life been denied the inestimable blessings of education. Every romantic element that could heighten the interest of the story was present, even to the mysterious disappearance of witnesses. Directly after the event the old lodge-keeper had disappeared, and it was supposed he had gone to join his daughter, a young woman who was reported to know a good deal about the accused. It was suspected that Marks was keeping out of the way rather than give evidence against his young master, and every effort to trace his whereabouts was unsuccessful. The old squire could not be called as a witness, for his brain was still affected. He recognized no one, and would sit all day staring into vacancy, and moaning, ‘My son! my son!’ Young Heritage had been found near the scene of the crime, hiding and breathless, but none of the property had been found on him. That, of course, the confederate might have got away with, for there were evidently two persons concerned in the outrage. The prisoner, who was described by the special reporters as a prepossessing young man, told a fairly plausible tale about his having returned to ask his father’s forgiveness, but his whole conduct in running away and in hiding was opposed to such a solution. Why should he run away? In the absence of all evidence that could lead to a conviction, the magistrates, after a few remands, decided that the prisoner must be discharged, and he was set at liberty. Hardly had he left the dock, however, when he was arrested and conveyed to London, there to take his trial on a more serious charge. He had been recognized and sworn to in court as one who, under the _alias_ of George Smith, had been engaged in extensive frauds. In due course poor George found himself undergoing a preliminary examination in a London police court. The bolt had fallen; the warning of his mysterious friend had been justified; and he was charged with committing the forgeries which he had now no doubt had been the principal business of his respected employers. Messrs. Smith and Co. Mr. Jabez Duck’s shiny head no sooner appeared in the box than George knew how tightly the meshes were being drawn around him.