Mr. Quest sank into his chair, and a silence of astonishment fell upon the court.

The Squire was the first to recover himself.

“Silence,” he said, addressing her.  “Silence.  This cannot go on here.”

“But I want justice,” she shrieked.  “I want justice; I want a warrant against that man for bigamy.” (Sensation.) “He’s left me to starve; me, his lawful wife.  Look here,” and she tore open the pink satin tea-gown, “I haven’t enough clothes on me; the bailiffs took all my clothes; I have suffered his cruelty for years, and borne it, and I can bear it no longer.  Justice, your worships; I only ask for justice.”

“Be silent, woman,” said Mr. de la Molle; “if you have a criminal charge to bring against anybody there is a proper way to make it.  Be silent or leave this court.”

But she only screamed the more for justice, and loudly detailed fragments of her woes to the eagerly listening crowd.

Then policemen were ordered to remove her, and there followed a frightful scene.  She shrieked and fought in such a fashion that it took four men to drag her to the door of the court, where she dropped exhausted against the wall in the corridor.

“Well,” said the observant George to himself, “she hev done the trick proper, and no mistake.  Couldn’t have been better.  That’s a master one, that is.”  Then he turned his attention to the stricken man before him.  Mr. Quest was sitting there, his face ashen, his eyes wide open, and his hands placed flat on the table before him.  When silence had been restored he rose and turned to the bench apparently with the intention of addressing the court.  But he said nothing, either because he could not find the words or because his courage failed him.  There was a moment’s intense silence, for every one in the crowded court was watching him, and the sense of it seemed to take what resolution he had left out of him.  At any rate, he left the table and hurried from the court.  In the passage he found the Tiger, who, surrounded by a little crowd, her hat awry and her clothes half torn from her back, was huddled gasping against the wall.

She saw him and began to speak, but he stopped and faced her.  He faced her, grinding his teeth, and with such an awful fire of fury in his eyes that she shrank from him in terror, flattening herself against the wall.

“What did I tell you?” he said in a choked voice, and then passed on.  A few paces down the passage he met one of his own clerks, a sharp fellow enough.

“Here, Jones,” he said, “you see that woman there.  She has made a charge against me.  Watch her.  See where she goes to, and find out what she is going to do.  Then come and tell me at the office.  If you lose sight of her, you lose your place too.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said the astonished clerk, and Mr. Quest was gone.

He made his way direct to the office.  It was closed, for he had told his clerks he should not come back after court, and that they could go at half-past four.  He had his key, however, and, entering, lit the gas.  Then he went to his safe and sorted some papers, burning a good number of them.  Two large documents, however, he put by his side to read.  One was his will, the other was endorsed “Statement of the circumstances connected with Edith.”