It was now nearly dark, and observing that it was necessary the court and jury should see as well as hear the witness whilst under examination, I requested that lights should be brought in. This was done. Two candles were placed in front of the witness-box, one on each side of Mrs. Wareing; a few others were disposed about the bench and jury desks. The effect of this partial lighting of the gloomy old court was, that the witness stood out in strong and bright relief from the surrounding shadows, rendering the minutest change or play of her features distinctly visible. Mr. Silas Thorndyke was, from his position, thrown entirely into the shade, and any telegraphing between him and the witness was thus rendered impossible. This preparation, as if for some extraordinary and solemn purpose, together with the profound silence which reigned in the court, told fearfully, as I expected, upon the nerves of Mrs. Elizabeth Wareing. She already seemed as if about to swoon with agitation and ill-defined alarm. "Pray, madam," said I, "is your name Wareing or Tucker?" She did not answer, and I repeated the question. "Tucker," she at last replied in a tremulous whisper. "I thought so. And pray, Mrs. Tucker, were you ever 'in trouble' in London for robbing your lodgings?" I thought she attempted to answer, but no sound passed her lips. One of the ushers of the court handed her a glass of water at my suggestion, and she seemed to recover somewhat. I pressed my question; and at last she replied in the same low, agitated voice, "Yes, I have been." "I know you have. Mr. Silas Thorndyke, I believe, was your bail on that occasion, and the matter was, I understand, compromised--arranged--at all events the prosecution was not pressed. Is not that so?" "Yes--no--yes." "Very well: either answer will do. You lived also, I believe, with Mr. Thorndyke, as his housekeeper of course, when he was in business as a concocter and vender of infallible drugs and pills?" "Yes." "He was held to be skilful in the preparation of drugs, was he not--well-versed in their properties?" "Yes--I believe so--I do not know. Why am I asked such questions?" "You will know presently. And now, woman, answer the question I am about to put to you, as you will be compelled to answer it to God at the last great day--What was the nature of the drug which you or he mixed with the medicine prescribed for the late Mrs. Thorndyke?" A spasmodic shriek, checked by a desperate effort, partially escaped her, and she stood fixedly gazing with starting eyes in my face. The profoundest silence reigned in the court as I iterated the question. "You must answer, woman," said the judge sternly, "unless you know your answer will criminate yourself."