“If you are to decide this,” she said, firmly; but still with respect, “I ask that this man shall show us no mercy that can leave a suspicion of wrong on me, or on my boy. If you are a just judge, search out the truth, find the guilty persons; first and foremost wring the perjury from that young man’s soul, for he _is_ perjured.” Boyce tried to evade the long, steady finger which the woman pointed at him; but there was a force and weird fascination in her look which held him motionless. He grew coldly white to the lips, and the ruddy hair rose upon his temples like meadow-grass lifted by the wind. “That—that is libelous,” he faltered at last. “I only come to do my duty, and because Mr. Smith wanted me to.” “Well, I just wish I hadn’t; that’s all,” said Smith, wiping his moist forehead. “I’d rather have lost twice the money, than go through with all this again; to say nothing of the awful muss at home, where I don’t know as my own wife will speak to me.” “Oh, you never fear that—they always do!” said Boyce, with an uneasy attempting to shake off the impression which Mrs. Laurence had left upon him. “Shouldn’t wonder if she forgives you one of these days, hard as she takes it; women are, naturally—well, suppose we say, soft.” “Silence!” said the judge, on whom the young man was fastening a vague suspicion of treachery. “Come forward, Mrs. Laurence, and make your own statement.” Mrs. Laurence laid her hand on the railing before her, looked the judge steadily in the face, and answered that she had nothing to say, except that, up to the time of her arrest she had never heard of the robbery, or known that her son was suspected. “But some of the goods were found on your premises. How do you account for that?” said the judge. “I do not account for a thing of which I have no knowledge. If stolen property was found there, neither I nor this child had anything to do with it.” “Then you deny all knowledge of the stolen goods found in the out-house on your premises?” “I do!” “And the boy? Step down. He may be able to tell us something. James Laurence!” James came forward, pale and frightened; but in no way downcast; his eyes clear, honest, and limpid with truth, were lifted almost with confidence to the judge, whose face softened with an irresistible feeling of compassion as he bent it toward him. “Tell me what you know of this,” he said, very kindly; “but first let me caution you. If you are the guilty boy this witness makes you out, I have no power or right to make you accuse yourself. Be careful what you say; innocent or guilty, you shall have a fair trial.” “I will answer everything, only please tell me what is it you want to know?” “You have heard the charge. You know what this young man has been saying. Is it true?” “Yes, sir, I heard every word he said. Some of it was true, and some wasn’t,” answered the boy, lifting his honest eyes to the magistrate’s face. “How much of it, then, was true?”