“Were you in Naghapoor in the year of the floods?”
“Yes,” said Stapylton, firmly, but evidently with an effort to appear calm.
“In the service of the great Sahib, Howard Stapylton?”
“In his service? Certainly not. I lived with him as his friend, and became his adopted heir.''
“What office did you fill when you first came to the 'Residence'?”
“I assisted my friend in the duties of his government; I was a good Oriental scholar, and could write and speak a dialect he knew nothing of. But I submit to the court that this examination, prompted and suborned by others, has no other object than to insult me, by leading to disclosures of matters essentially private in their nature.”
“Let me ask but one question,” said the barrister. “What name did you bear before you took that of Stapylton?”
“I refuse to submit to this insolence,” said Stapylton, rising, angrily. “If the laws of the country only can lend themselves to assist the persecutions of a rascally Press, the sooner a man of honor seeks another land the better. Adjudicate on this case, sirs; I will not stoop to bandy words with these men.”
“I now, sir,” said Hesketh, opening his bag and taking out a roll of papers, “am here to demand a committal for forgery against the person before you, passing under the name of Horace Stapylton, but whose real designation is Samuel Scott Edwardes, son of Samuel Edwardes, a name notorious enough once.”
I cannot go on, my dear friend; the emotions that overpowered me at the time, and compelled me to leave the court, are again threatening me, and my brain reels at the recollection of a scene which, even to my fast-fading senses, was the most trying of my life.