Then, closely veiled, she was led out between the two policemen, and conducted across the street to the Townhall, in a front room of which the magistrates held their sessions.
A rude crowd of men, women and boys was collected in front of the building, waiting to get a sight of her face as she passed. But the policemen kindly hurried her through this crowd into the hall.
It was a large stone room, divided across the middle of the floor by an iron railing. Within this railing, behind a long table, sat three magistrates; the presiding Justice, Sir Ira Brunton, occupied the central position, while on his right sat Squire Humphreys, and on his left Squire Upton. At one extremity of the table sat the clerk, and at the opposite end stood the group of witnesses, consisting of Dr. Watkins, Dr. Hall, the Princess Pezzilini, two chemists, a policeman, and the domestic servants of Allworth Abbey.
Immediately before the table stood Malcolm Montrose, looking pale, anxious, and heart-broken. On seeing the entrance of Eudora guarded, he hurried through the little gate of the railings towards her, saying, in a low and hurried tone:
“Oh, Eudora! It is but an hour since I heard of your arrest—only when the sheriff’s-officer arrived at Allworth to summon the witnesses; and I hurried hither immediately to see what I could do for you.”
“Nothing, nothing, you can do nothing for me, dear friend; my case is so desperate that none but God can help me.”
“But oh, Eudora——”
“Sir, we cannot allow any conversation with the prisoner,” said Sims, hurrying his charge on to the immediate presence of the magistrates.
“Place a chair for her, officer; she is unable to stand,” said Squire Upton, looking at the terrified and half-fainting girl with feelings that might have been compassion, but for the horror her supposed crime inspired.
Sims placed a chair directly in front of the table before the magistrates, and Eudora dropped rather than set down in it.