Then Mark Runham was called, and at once placed in the dock.
Zita looked at him. She could see that he was not altogether confident that his innocence would be acknowledged. He strove to disguise his anxiety, but ineffectually. He was bewildered at the charge laid against him, and troubled at finding himself in a novel and unpleasant situation.
The depositions having been read over, Hezekiah Drownlands, of Prickwillow, was ordered to stand in the witness-box, for it was he who had lodged information against Mark.
Zita immediately elbowed her way to the front, and, resting her elbow on the rail that limited the portion of the court accessible to the public, looked steadily into the face of the master. She was resolved to check and correct his statements, so that they should not tell unfavourably against the prisoner. Drownlands noticed her, but refrained from meeting her eye. He gave his evidence with hesitation and confusedly, for he had laid information against Mark Runham, and was now seeking to minimise the charge and weaken the force of his own accusations.
'I was in my office,' said Drownlands, 'on that same evening, and was talking with—with Zita there,'—he pointed with his thumb towards the girl, but without looking at her,—'when I heard the voices of the rioters.'
'Stay a moment,' said the chairman, interposing. 'Who may this Zita be?'
The chairman was a merry, red-faced man, a gentleman who had been brother to a former Dean, and had obtained from that Dean a lease of a large tract of ecclesiastical property for ninety-nine years at a nominal rent, and who resided and had become wealthy in Ely.
'I refer,' said Drownlands, 'to that young woman. She lives in my house.'
The eyes of the Bench and of the audience were directed towards the girl.