"Dear me! dear me!" said the magistrate, fretfully--he was a little man, most careful of the dignity of his position--"all this is very irregular, not to say unseemly. Mr. Inspector, perhaps you can enlighten us?"
Chard rose, and cast no very friendly glance towards Jacob, whom he strongly suspected of having contrived this dramatic master-stroke.
"The girl is Tera, I believe; usually called Bithiah, your worship. What was thought to be her body was found in a cornfield at Grimleigh, as set forth in the charge. It now seems that there has been some mistake as to identity. This is the girl herself, your worship."
"And I am innocent!" finished Jack.
"Silence in the court," roared the usher, as the crowd manifested signs of giving vent to their feelings.
"I am to understand, then, that this young woman is the supposed victim of this murder," said Mr. Benker, in his most pompous tones. "It is really most extraordinary. I don't know that I have ever heard of anything more so. There is some one here, I presume, prepared and competent to swear to her identity?"
"Her guardian is in court, your worship."
"Who is her guardian?"
"The Reverend Mr. Johnson, your worship."
"Let Mr. Johnson be called and sworn."