As Alec had been speaking, Mr. Corker kept looking at him with a curious, half-amused, half-admiring expression in his beady black eyes; and when the young man ended his speech he turned slowly away, without answering a word, and began to tell an interesting story to the counsel on the other side. This was Mr. Champneys, a middle-aged man, with a hard, keen face, finely-cut features, and firmly-set thin lips. Mr. Champneys wore well-made clothes and fine linen, and looked like a gentleman. Everything about him was absolutely correct, everything he said was clearly yet cautiously expressed. He sat with unmoved features listening to Mr. Corker’s anecdote, when a sudden bustle in the region of the bench announced the arrival of Mr. Mallison, the magistrate. The two barristers and the half-dozen solicitors who were present stood up; and as Mr. Mallison slowly made his way to his chair, Mr. Corker placed his hand over his mouth, and delivered the point of his story into Mr. Champneys’ ear, much to that gentleman’s disgust. Alec was sitting beside Beattie at the solicitors’ table. He glanced behind him. The court was filled with frowsy women and beetle-browed men, the friends of the prisoners who were presently to appear in the dock, with here and there the tall form of a policeman. A few respectable-looking people were sitting in front; but the majority of those present evidently belonged to the criminal classes; and the unmistakable, sickening odour peculiar to such a crowd filled the air. ‘Are these the men with whom I am to live for the future?’ said Alec to himself, as a shudder passed over him. But the magistrate had arranged his papers, and was now ready to begin. ‘Are you two gentlemen in the same case?’ he asked, with a glance at the two counsel. ‘I believe so,’ said Mr. Champneys. ‘Then we’ll take your case first,’ answered Mr. Mallison. This was not pure good-nature on the magistrate’s part. He knew Mr. Corker well, and was anxious to get him out of the court as soon as possible. Then Mr. Champneys rose, and ‘opened the case.’ Alec’s eyes wandered to a kind of box fitted with pews at one side of the bench. Half a dozen men and boys were sitting there, writing as fast as their pencils would go. ‘These are the reporters,’ thought Alec; ‘to-morrow morning my shame will be in every man’s mouth.’ As succinctly as he could, Mr. Champneys detailed the facts. ‘I shall only ask for a remand to-day,’ he said in conclusion, ‘as the documents we rely upon are not yet in our hands. Call the Reverend Dr. Mackenzie.’ Mr. Corker grinned, and looked the magistrate straight in the face.