The judge passed the check to the jury without a word. There were some among them who had often seen Bartley Bradstone’s writing, and they recognized it instantly.
“When did you see Mr. Bartley Bradstone last?” asked Mr. Edgar, springing to his feet.
“At his own house, the night afore last!” said Seth.
Amazement again.
“At his own house!” said Mr. Edgar. “My lord”—and he turned quickly to the judge—“I ask for a warrant, for the arrest of Bartley Bradstone.”
Mr. McAndrew looked up gravely.
“That’s been done already,” he said.
“Have you any other evidence?” said the judge. “Can you call some one, produce something confirmatory of this man’s testimony?”
Before he could reply a commotion arose in the corridor, and, with much shouting and talking and pushing to and fro, a policeman entered, followed closely by Bessie.
He went up to Mr. McAndrew, and said something, amid a dead silence; then Mr. Sewell very gravely and solemnly said: