‘I suspect, brother Threeper,’ said the Sheriff, ‘that you are in the wrong box.’
‘I suspect so too,’ replied the advocate laughing; but, addressing himself again to Walter, he said,—
‘You have been married, Mr. Walkinshaw?’
‘Aye, auld Doctor Denholm married me to Betty Bodle.’
‘And pray where is she?’
‘Her mortal remains, as the headstone says, lie in the kirkyard.’
The countenance of Mr. Keelevin became pale and anxious—George and Pitwinnoch exchanged smiles of gratulation.
‘You had a daughter?’ said the advocate, looking knowingly to the jury, who sat listening with greedy ears.
‘I had,’ said Walter, and glanced anxiously towards his trembling agent.