The prisoner was safe, however, and no question as to his identity.

CHAPTER IV

Interruption in Court

In due time Judge Harbottle went circuit; and in due time the judges were in Shrewsbury.  News travelled slowly in those days, and newspapers, like the wagons and stage coaches, took matters easily.  Mrs. Pyneweck, in the Judge’s house, with a diminished household—­the greater part of the Judge’s servants having gone with him, for he had given up riding circuit, and travelled in his coach in state—­kept house rather solitarily at home.

In spite of quarrels, in spite of mutual injuries—­some of them, inflicted by herself, enormous—­in spite of a married life of spited bickerings—­a life in which there seemed no love or liking or forbearance, for years—­now that Pyneweck stood in near danger of death, something like remorse came suddenly upon her.  She knew that in Shrewsbury were transacting the scenes which were to determine his fate.  She knew she did not love him; but she could not have supposed, even a fortnight before, that the hour of suspense could have affected her so powerfully.

She knew the day on which the trial was expected to take place.  She could not get it out of her head for a minute; she felt faint as it drew towards evening.

Two or three days passed; and then she knew that the trial must be over by this time.  There were floods between London and Shrewsbury, and news was long delayed.  She wished the floods would last forever.  It was dreadful waiting to hear; dreadful to know that the event was over, and that she could not hear till self-willed rivers subsided; dreadful to know that they must subside and the news come at last.

She had some vague trust in the Judge’s good nature, and much in the resources of chance and accident.  She had contrived to send the money he wanted.  He would not be without legal advice and energetic and skilled support.

At last the news did come—­a long arrear all in a gush:  a letter from a female friend in Shrewsbury; a return of the sentences, sent up for the Judge; and most important, because most easily got at, being told with great aplomb and brevity, the long-deferred intelligence of the Shrewsbury Assizes in the Morning Advertiser.  Like an impatient reader of a novel, who reads the last page first, she read with dizzy eyes the list of the executions.

Two were respited, seven were hanged; and in that capital catalogue was this line: 

“Lewis Pyneweck—­forgery.”

She had to read it a half-a-dozen times over before she was sure she understood it.  Here was the paragraph: 

    Sentence, Death—­7.

    Executed accordingly, on Friday the 13th instant, to wit: 

    Thomas Primer, alias Duck—­highway robbery.  Flora Guy—­stealing to
    the value of 11s. 6d.  Arthur Pounden—­burglary.  Matilda
    Mummery—­riot.  Lewis Pyneweck—­forgery, bill of exchange.