Mr. Signsealer whispered the bench; he proposed that the prisoner’s hat should be examined, as the name of its maker might afford a clue to his residence.

‘True, true, Mr. Clerk,’ said Squire Mountmeadow, ’I am coming to that.  ’Tis a sound practice; I have known such a circumstance lead to great disclosures.  But we must proceed in order.  Order is everything.  Constable, take the prisoner’s hat off.’

The constable took the hat off somewhat rudely; so rudely, indeed, that the carroty locks came off in company with it, and revealed a profusion of long plaited hair, which had been adroitly twisted under the wig, more in character with the countenance than its previous covering.

‘A Jesuit, after all!’ exclaimed the Squire.

‘A gipsy, as it seems to me,’ whispered the Doctor.

‘Still worse,’ said the Squire.

‘Silence in the Court!’ exclaimed the awful voice of Squire Mountmeadow, for the excitement of the audience was considerable.  The disguise was generally esteemed as incontestable evidence of the murder.  ’Silence, or I will order the Court to be cleared.  Constable, proclaim silence.  This is an awful business,’ added the Squire, with a very long face.  ’Brother Masham, we must do our duty; but this is an awful business.  At any rate we must try to discover the body.  A Peer of the realm must not be suffered to lie murdered in a ditch.  He must have Christian burial, if possible, in the vaults of his ancestors.’

When Morgana, for it was indeed he, observed the course affairs were taking, and ascertained that his detention under present circumstances was inevitable, he relaxed from his doggedness, and expressed a willingness to make a communication to the bench.  Squire Mountmeadow lifted up his eyes to Heaven, as if entreating the interposition of Providence to guide him in his course; then turned to his brother magistrate, and then nodded to the clerk.

‘He has compunctions, brother Masham,’ said his worship:  ’I told you so; he has compunctions.  Trust me to deal with these fellows.  He knew not his perilous situation; the hint of petty treason staggered him.  Mr. Clerk, take down the prisoner’s confession; the Court must be cleared; constable, clear the Court.  Let a stout man stand on each side of the prisoner, to protect the bench.  The magistracy of England will never shrink from doing their duty, but they must be protected.  Now, prisoner, the bench is ready to hear your confession.  Conceal nothing, and if you were not a principal in the murder, or an accessory before the fact; eh, Mr. Clerk, thus runs the law, as I take it? there may be mercy; at any rate, if you be hanged, you will have the satisfaction of having cheerfully made the only atonement to society in your power.’

‘Hanging be damned!’ said Morgana.

Squire Mountmeadow started from his seat, his cheeks distended with rage, his dull eyes for once flashing fire.  ’Did you ever witness such atrocity, brother Masham?’ exclaimed his worship.  ’Did you hear the villain?  I’ll teach him to respect the bench.  I’ll fine him before he is executed, that I will!’