At Newgate the kind-hearted Mr Wontner--keeper of the gaol from 1822 till his premature death at the age of fifty in 1833--allowed the unfortunate banker every privilege that lay in his power. Thus his prison was no gloomy dungeon, but a large and well-furnished room, occupied by a turnkey named Harris, who removed into an adjacent apartment, and who, together with his wife, watched over and attended to the wants of his charge. Convinced that his case was hopeless, it is said that Fauntleroy resolved to plead guilty; but, urged by his friends, and by his solicitors, Messrs Forbes & Harmer, he was induced at last to abandon the intention. James Harmer, who conducted his defence, was the great criminal lawyer of his day--a prototype of Mr Jaggers--the prince of Old Bailey attorneys. Among his clients were such diametrically opposite characters as Joseph Hunt of Gillshill fame, and lusty Sam Bamford of Middleton. The incidents of Mr Fauntleroy’s case offered many opportunities for his versatile talents; and although he failed to teach good manners to _The Times_ newspaper, he did much service to his age, by means of a side issue, in getting Joseph Parkins indicted for perjury. Yet the greatest abilities could do little to extenuate the Berners Street forgeries. Still, whether or not he had a weakness for scented soap, Harmer never fought in kid gloves, as the unfortunate Messrs Marsh, Stracey, & Graham--whom he was compelled to damage in the interests of the man he defended--found to their cost. Those inclined to accuse Charles Dickens of exaggeration should bear in mind that murderer Hunt, who chose Jaggers Harmer as his solicitor, escaped the hangman’s rope, while Thurtell, who employed another lawyer, was handed over to Thomas Cheshire. The trial of Fauntleroy on Saturday, the 30th of October, did not attract the mob of respectables that officialdom had anticipated. A guinea entrance-fee proved prohibitive. Press and law students alone furnished their crowds, and the private galleries were patronised but poorly. Joseph Parkins, eager to witness the humiliation of the man whom he had chosen to regard as an enemy, was an early arrival, taking his place at the barristers’ table in front of the dock, where, in full view of the prisoner, he could gloat over his misery. Luckily, Sheriff Brown, whose humanity--like that of his colleague John Key--was in advance of the age, witnessed the manœuvre, and, appreciating the motive of the truculent nabob, sent an officer of the court to tell him that his seat was engaged. Parkins, whose fierce eyes, glaring from beneath bushy, overhanging brows, seemed to inflame his combative features and fiery locks, turned in outraged dignity upon the official. [Illustration: _James Harmer, Esqʳ._ _Solicitor._ _Engraved by T. Wright from a Drawing by A. Wivell._ _London, Published August 1ˢᵗ, 1820, by A. WIVELL, 105, Great Titchfield Street._] “Do you know to whom you speak, sir?” he articulated.