Markham was certainly astounded when he heard the stress laid upon those letters by the solicitor for the prosecution, and the manner in which their real meaning was made to tell against him. The Magistrate called upon him for his defence; and Markham, forgetful that Mac Chizzle was there to represent him, addressed himself in an earnest tone to Mr. Chichester, exclaiming, "You can now set me right in the eyes of the magistrate, and in the opinion of even the prosecuting counsel, who seems so anxious to distort every circumstance to my disadvantage." "I really am not aware," said Mr. Chichester, caressing his chin in a very _nonchalant_ manner, "that I can throw any light upon this subject." "All I require is the truth," ejaculated Richard, surprised at the tone and manner of his late friend. "Did you not give me that note for five hundred pounds to change for you? and did I not receive the second note from you in exchange for fifty sovereigns?" Mr. Chichester replied in an indignant negative. The magistrate shook his head: the prosecuting solicitor took snuff significantly;--Mac Chizzle made a memorandum;--and Whittingham murmured, "Ah! that mitigated villain Axminster." "What do I hear!" exclaimed Richard: "Mr. Chichester your memory must fail you sadly. I suppose you recollect the occasion upon which Mr. Talbot gave you the five hundred pound note?" "Mr. Talbot never gave me any note at all," answered Chichester, in a measured and determined manner. "It is false--false as hell!" cried Markham, more enraged than alarmed; and he forthwith detailed to the magistrate the manner in which he had been induced to change the one note, and had become possessed of the other. "This is a very lame story, indeed," said the magistrate; "and you must try and see if you can get a jury to believe it. You stand committed." Before Richard could make any reply, he was lugged out of the dock by the jailor; the next case was called on; and he was hurried back to his cell, whither Mac Chizzle and the butler were permitted to follow him. CHAPTER XXV. THE ENCHANTRESS. "Oh! how can I prove my innocence now?" exclaimed Richard, wringing his hands, and walking hastily up and down the cell: "how shall I convince the world that a fearful combination of circumstances has so entangled me in this net, that never was man so wronged before? how can I communicate my dread position to Monroe? how ever again look society in the face? how live after this exposure--this disgrace?" "Master Richard, Master Richard," cried the poor old butler, "don't take on so--don't now! Your innocence must conspire on the day of trial, and the jury will do you justice. Now, don't take on so, Master Richard--pray don't!" As the faithful domestic uttered these words, the tears chased each other so rapidly down his cheeks that he seemed to need consolation quite as much as his master.