‘She will be good and brave,’ said her aunt; and quickly passing across the platform, Dolores found herself beside her aunt, with her uncle opposite in another fly.
Things had been arranged for them considerately, and after they came to the Guildhall, where the city magistrates were sitting, Colonel Mohun went at once into court; the others were taken to a little room, and waited there a few minutes before Colonel Mohun came to call for his niece. It was a long room, with a rail at one end, and Dolores knew, with a strange thrill which made her shudder, that Mr. Flinders was there, but she could not bear to look at him, and only squeezed hard at the hand of her aunt, who asked, in a somewhat shaky voice, if she might come with her niece.
‘Certainly, certainly. Lady Merrifield,’ said one of the magistrates, and chairs were set both for her and Colonel Mohun.
‘You are Miss Mohun, I think—may I ask your Christian name in full?’ And then she had to spell it, and likewise tell her exact age, after which she was put on oath—as she knew enough of trials to expect.
‘Are you residing with Lady Merrifield?’
‘Yes.’
‘But your father is living?’
‘Yes, but he is in the Fiji Islands.’
‘Will you favour us with his exact name?’
‘Maurice Devereux Mohun.’