Ryder. Into the anteroom.
Prisoner. Then why did you say it was in my chamber I entertained him?
Ryder. Madam, I meant no more than that it was your private apartment up stairs.
Prisoner. You contrived to make the gentlemen think otherwise.
Judge. That you did. 'T is down in my notes that she received the pedler in her bedchamber.
Ryder (sobbing). God is my witness I did not mean to mislead your lordship: and I ask my lady's pardon for not being more exact in that particular.
At this the prisoner bowed to the judge, and sat down with one victorious flash of her gray eye at the witness, who was in an abject condition of fear, and hung all about the witness-box limp as a wet towel.
Sergeant Wiltshire saw she was so thoroughly cowed she would be apt to truckle, and soften her evidence to propitiate the prisoner; so he asked her but one question.
"Were you and the prisoner on good terms?"
Ryder. On the best of terms. She was always a good and liberal mistress to me.