“Mr. Seyton!” cried Sir Francis.
“The same,” said Albert—“the unhappy Seyton.”
Sir Francis remained a moment or two in deep thought, then he said:—
“Officers what is the charge against this young man?”
“Murder, your worship,” replied one.
“Leave the room, all of you, I will hear the evidence one by one.”
“Oh, sir,” said Albert, “there is evidence enough—fate has marked me for destruction. You may send me now to prison, and spare your labour—I am innocent, but yet submit; you see I am patient, sir.”
“You speak from the bitterness of your heart,” said Sir Francis. “I am here to do my duty, without favour or affection. My previous knowledge of you I now wholly discard from my mind. You come before me as an utter stranger, accused of an awful crime—you shall have justice, and were you my own son, I could say no more. Now, officer, let me hear what you have to say.”
Sir Francis himself swore the officer, who remained in the room, and who was the principal spy upon Jacob Gray.
“Your worship,” he said, “is aware that my duty has been to keep watch on a man named Gray.”