“Does anybody appear to watch the case for the prisoner?” asked the magistrate. Nobody replied, and the magistrate, putting a gold-rimmed glass to his eye, addressed the prisoner. “Judging from your dress and general appearance, you are respectably connected. Have you no friends here?” “No, sir,” said Paul. “But I am quite innocent of the charge which is made against me.” “Yes, prisoners mostly say so,” said the magistrate, cynically; “but that must be inquired into.” “It is some horrible conspiracy, sir,” said Paul with great earnestness, his lip quivering and his face quite pale with apprehension. A gentleman who was sitting near the reporters rose at this juncture, and asked to be allowed to watch the case for the prisoner. Paul willingly embraced the offer on his part, and Mr. Arundel Williamson, a briefless barrister and a “gentleman of the press,” stepped up to the prisoner, and entered into a brief conversation with Paul. “Would you like the case to be adjourned for a short time?” the magistrate asked. “Thank you, no, sir,” said Mr. Williamson; and the police inspector called Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, who stated that on the previous day he had business at the Meter Ironworks Company, Westminster. Whilst he was in Mr. Richard Tallant’s room, he had occasion to take something from his purse, and during conversation he laid the purse upon the mantel-shelf. About half-an-hour afterwards, when he was leaving the room, he remembered his purse, and found that it was gone. At first he thought he must have put it into his pocket again, but he searched without avail. The only person who had come into the room whilst he was there was the prisoner. “Will you ask Mr. Gibbs any questions, Mr. Williamson?” “No, sir, not at present,” the barrister replied. “Proceed with the case,” said the magistrate. Policeman X 40 said: “Late last night he had a search-warrant placed in his hands to execute at the house of Mr. Thomas Dibble, Still Street, Pimlico. He went there the next morning, and asked an old woman----” “Old woman, thir!--how dare you call me an old woman?” somebody exclaimed in the body of the police court. “Who is that? Bring that woman forward,” said the magistrate. “Yeth, my lord and jury, or whatever you call yourthelveth,” said Mrs. Dibble, elbowing herself, amidst much laughter, towards the bench. “Silence! Silence!” exclaimed two policemen; whilst another took hold of Mrs. Dibble’s arm to increase her momentum. “How dare you, thir! Handth off, or I’ll have the law againtht you for falthe imprithonment; and ith more than your plathe ith worth to----” “Take her out--take the woman out, if she will not be quiet,” said the magistrate. “At your peril,” exclaimed Mrs. Dibble, amidst increasing laughter. “Then out with her!” exclaimed the magistrate, losing his temper; and Mrs. Dibble speedily disappeared, struggling between two policemen, and bursting her hooks-and-eyes in the most extraordinary fashion.