"And mark you, this gentleman is the Honorable George Heathercliffe, of Cliffe Towers, Hampshire, England, member of parliament, and honored of the Queen. His passports have been examined by our honorable judge, thereby saving the necessity for too much unpolished Yankee criticism."
"It has failed to save us a dose of Irish pig-headedness, however," interpolates the opposing barrister.
During the burst of smothered laughter that follows, the stately fair-haired stranger quits his place beside Constance, and takes the stand.
He is duly sworn, and then Mr. O'Meara begins, with much impressiveness:
"Mr. Heathercliffe, turn your eyes upon the prisoner, my client. Have you ever seen him before entering this court room?"
The Honorable George Heathercliffe turns toward the prisoner, and a smile deepens the blue of his eyes, and intensifies the kindly expression of his handsome mouth.
"I have seen the prisoner before," he replies, still smiling.
"Have you known him previous to his advent in W——?"
"I have."
"For long?"