‘My lord, the key found in the prisoner’s possession is my cellar-key.’
This time the bold interrupter was Mrs. Thompson, the Bearded Woman.
‘Five years as usual, and hard labour,’ said Sir Joshua Juggins, wearily. He was tiring of his task. ‘Please, my lord, it warn’t none of me,’ came a hoarse whisper from the prisoner at the bar.
‘Who asked you to speak? Is that the way to plead?’ snapped the judge. ‘Give him five years also, for contempt of court.’
William Evans was carried out in hysterics.
The plot, the mystery had thickened.
I now felt that there was only one way of fathoming the secret of the crime. I also must get myself committed! Then I would be able to rejoin the other actors in this strange drama, and learn their motives, and the real facts of the case.
In a moment my resolution was taken.
Springing to my feet, I exclaimed in clarion tones:—
‘My lord, I am an accessory after the fact.’