to the shop of Mr. Cook to make inquiry as to
whether he had sold some laudanum recently to
the accused?

Witness.—Yes, sir, I was.

Mr. Steel. Did he say anything to you as to
any caution he had given to the purchaser when
he sold the laudanum?

Witness. Yes, sir. He said that it was always
his custom, when he sold such poisonous drugs,
to caution the parties buying them to keep them
out of the way in some place of security.

The other witness to be examined was the
solicitor who had been in the habit of attending
to Miss Carrington's affairs. He deposed that
the deceased lady had died intestate, and that he
possessed the draught of a will drawn up in
accordance with the wishes of the deceased, by
which her property was bequeathed to some
distant relations, with whom she had formerly
resided. That will had never been signed, and
was mere waste paper. The husband of the
prisoner, and his brothers and sister, were next
of kin to the late Miss Carrington, and there
being no valid will, her property would be divided
among them. It was elicited in cross-examination,
however, that the husband of the accused
had refused, under the circumstances, to accept
his share of the property, having made it over to
the persons named in the invalid will.

This statement seemed to make a considerable
sensation in court. The last witness had been
examined for the prosecution, doubtless with the
view of proving an additional motive for the
crime with which Mrs. Penmore was charged, in
her desire to secure the share in Miss Carrington's
property, which would fall to her husband
should the deceased die intestate. The fact,
which was elicited in cross-examination, caused
the evidence of this witness to be, in point of
fact, favourable to the defence.

Serjeant Probyn now rose, intimated that he
had no more witnesses to examine, and that

This was the case for the prosecution.

It is hoped that all this time the reader has
kept before him two figures of such pre-eminent
interest that the eyes of all persons in court
were continually returning to them throughout
the trial. First, that poor little, forlorn,
helpless woman sitting in the dock, motionless, with
hands joined in her lap, and understanding but
faintly much that has been going on, and next,
the pale, anxious-looking young advocate in the
barristers' quarter, on whom nothing has been
lost throughout—no, not so much as a word, and
who has sat watching and waiting—eager for the
conflict to begin, in which he is to fight à
outrance for a life more precious to him than
aught else in the world.

The progress of the trial was now suspended
for a few minutes, to give an opportunity of
taking refreshment to those persons who needed
it. Among those who were gathered together to
watch the issue of this exciting case, there was
at this time a great buzz of talking. The
remarks, which during the progress of the trial
could only be made in a hurried half-intelligible
whisper, were now allowed a free vent, and
speculations as to the direction which the case
was taking abounded on all sides. At this time
it seemed to most men that the prospects of the
defence looked very bad indeed. The evidence
on the other side was really, as it appeared,
overwhelming and impregnable. The line about to
be taken by the defence had already been plainly
indicated by the nature of the cross-examination
to which Jane Cantanker and Captain Scraper
had been subjected. The issue of such
cross-examination had been, to some extent, favourable
to the defence; but a very small advance
only had been gained. An hypothesis had been
to a certain extent set up, and had to some small
extent received support. It had been proved that
the deceased lady had once, though some time
previous to her death, had laudanum in her possession,
and two witnesses had stated their impression
that they had observed certain characteristics
about the conduct of the deceased lady
which might possibly, but which it was equally
possible might not, have resulted from the practice
of taking opium. If the defence had no
more conclusive proof with which to back up
their theory than this that had appeared, there
would be but little chance for its successful
issue.

Such were the speculations with which all
persons assembled in the court-house of the Old
Bailey, on the day whose events we are describing,
were occupying themselves during the brief
period which had, at this stage of the trial, been
allowed to elapse, before that second part of it,
which was so eagerly anticipated by all that great
assembly, commenced.

The interval was a short one, and very soon
the usher of the court was once again proclaiming
silence, as the judges resumed their seats,
and all those officially employed about the place
settled themselves anew to their respective functions.

The injunction of the usher was obeyed with a
singular alacrity. The hum of talk among the
assembled spectators ceased in an instant. The
members of the public press, who had been busily
employed a moment before in comparing their
reports of all that had taken place, helping each
other wherever there was any hiatus or doubtful
passage, dropped silent into their respective
seats, even the lawyers, who had been talking so
eagerly among themselves, bandying from one to
another the last piece of news, true or otherwise,
which was in circulation about this strange cause,
even these gentlemen ceased for the moment to
utter so much as a whisper.

There was a great silence then in the court, as
a young man, dressed in the costume of an advocate,
and deadly pale, rose from his seat among
the benches assigned to the barristers, and
glancing once at some papers which he held in
his hand, prepared to address the jury.

At the moment when the young advocate stood
up, the prisoner in the dock suffered her head to