heckled, badgered, cross-examined, made perhaps to contradict herself at every turn, surveyed critically by the boarders at Beaconsfield Gardens, who, of course, would flock to hear the case. She would be flouted, disbelieved if she told the truth, tripped up and convicted of falsehood if she lied, accused no doubt of perjury, perhaps of murder, ordered to the cells to undergo terrible and unknown penalties, while Augusta—the only person who could prove her innocence and good faith—Augusta was a helpless, speechless infant, unable to testify in her favour. Of law, of legal procedure, of what a judge could or could not do, Prudence was profoundly ignorant. All that was plain to her was, that she could not produce her sister in the flesh as known to and recognisable by her acquaintances, and that no one would credit her if she produced the baby and said that was Augusta. Even at the best, if no question as to her sister arose, no suspicion of murder, how bad it looked to have smuggled a child away, and given it to such a person as Mrs. Brown to cruelly use. Cold beads of perspiration stood out on the poor woman's forehead. No! she would not be mixed up in it; she would not go into
