The sheriff, meantime, had given Lord Rotherwood and Lady Merrifield seats near the judge, where Miss Mohun was already installed. Alfred Flinders was already at the bar, and for the first time Lady Merrifield saw his somewhat handsome but shifty-looking face and red beard, as the counsel for the prosecution was giving a detailed account of his embarrassed finances, and of his having obtained from the inexperienced kindness of a young lady, a mere child in age, who called him uncle, though without blood relationship, a draft of her father’s for seven pounds, which, when presented at the bank, had become one for seventy. As before, the presenting and cashing of the seventy pounds was sworn to by the banker’s clerk, and then Dolores Mary Mohun was called. There she stood, looking smaller than usual in her black, close-fitting dress and hat, in a place meant for grown people, her dark face pale and set, keeping her eyes as much as she could from the prisoner. When the counsel spoke she gave a little start, for she knew him, as one who had often spent an evening with her parents, in the cheerful times while her mother lived. There was something in the familiar glance of his eyes that encouraged her, though he looked so much altered by his wig and gown, and it seemed strange that he should question her, as a stranger, on her exact name and age, her father’s absence, the connection with the prisoner, and present residence. Then came: ‘Did your father leave any money with you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What was the amount?’ ‘Five pounds for myself; seven besides.’ ‘In what form was the seven pounds?’ ‘A cheque from W.’s bank.’ ‘Did you part with it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘To whom?’ ‘I sent it to him.’ ‘To whom if you please?’ ‘To Mr. Alfred Flinders.’ And her voice trembled. ‘Can you tell me when you sent it away?’ ‘It was on the 22nd of December.’ ‘Is this the cheque?’ ‘It has been altered.’ ‘Explain in what manner?’ ‘There has ‘ty’ been put at the end of the written ‘seven,’ and a cipher after the figure 7 making it 70.’ ‘You are sure that it was not so when it went out of your possession?’ ‘Perfectly sure.’ Mr. Calderwood seemed to have done with her, and said, ‘Thank you;’ but then there stood up a barrister, whom she suspected of being a man her mother had disliked, and she knew that the worst was coming when he said, in a specially polite voice too, ‘Allow me to ask whether the cheque in question had been intended by Mr. Mohun for the prisoner?’ ‘No.’ ‘Or was it given to you as pocket-money?’ ‘No, it was to pay a bill.’ ‘Then did you divert it from that purpose?’ ‘I thought the man was dead.’ ‘What man?’ ‘Professor Muhlwasser.’ ‘The creditor?’ ‘Yes.’