“No,” cried Sandford, “I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account—would you, George?”
Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner’s woman to be again sent up. She came.
“In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?” asked he, and with a look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single word, and that word to be truth.
A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed, could not have equivocated with such an interrogator, but her reply was, “She went in her own dress, my Lord.”
“Was it a man’s or a woman’s?” asked he, with a look of the same command.
“Ha, ha, my Lord,” (half laughing and half crying) “a woman’s dress, to be sure, my Lord.”
On which Sandford cried——
“Call the footman up, and let him confront her.”
He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew to the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them.
With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate, Sandford—his back to the fire, and the witnesses before him, began with the footman.