“Yes, sir. Mr. Wrench sent a telegram from Scotland-yard, and directed us to watch for our man.”
“Quite right; very good of Mr. Wrench. He has done well. Where is the culprit?”
“I have him here, your worship.”
“Oh here—eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s better still. Bring him in; and you, my dear——” observed the magistrate, glancing at his wife.
Mrs. Kensett obeyed his gesture, took the hint, and left the room.
The magistrate was astonished at the aristocratic and gentlemanly appearance of the young man who was conducted into his presence by the police officer.
“Is this the accused?” said he.
“Yes, your worship.”