Let the examination of the witness go on," said the presiding judge.
"It shall, my lord," answered the Queen's Counsel, with an inclination of his white-wigged head.

Then turning to the bold blonde on the stand, he proceeded: "Witness, tell the jury what occurred that night under the balcony of Miss Levison's apartments at Castle Lone." Rose Cameron threw another vindictive glance at the Duke of Hereward, and commenced her narrative.
Now, as her story was substantially the same that has been already given to the reader, it is not necessary to recapitulate it here.

Only in one respect it differed from the stories she had hitherto told to her landlady or housekeeper, Mrs.Brown, of Westminster Road; as on this occasion she reserved all allusion to any real or fancied marriage between herself and the nobleman she claimed as her lover, and then accused as the accomplice of thieves and assassins, in the murder and robbery at Castle Lone, on the night preceding the day appointed for his own marriage with its heiress! It would be impossible to describe the effect of this terrible testimony on the minds of all who heard it.
The Bench, the Bar, and the Jury, whom, it would seem, nothing in this world had power to startle, astonish, or discompose, sat like statues.
Scarcely less immovable was the young Duke of Hereward, the subject of this awful charge, who sat back in his seat with an air of grave curiosity, and with the composure of a man who was master of the situation.
But the crowd which filled the court-room seemed utterly confounded by what they heard.

Upon the whole, they either disbelieved this witness, or distrusted their own ears.

Their young laird, as she called the present duke, was their model of all wisdom, goodness, magnanimity.