No sooner had I appeared in the
antechamber than I was ushered into the presence of the secretary. There
were several persons--all strangers to me--present, who were conversing
so eagerly together that my entrance was for some minutes unnoticed.

"Oh! here is Carew," said Mr. Addington, turning hastily from the rest.
"He can identify him at once."

A large elderly man, who I afterwards learned was a city magistrate,
came up at this, and, regarding me steadily for a few seconds, said,--

"You are well acquainted with the person of a certain Count de Gabriac?"

"Yes, sir."

"And could swear to his identity, if required?"

"I could."

How long I had known him, where, and under what circumstances, were also
asked of me; and, finally, what space of time had elapsed since I had
last seen him.

While this inquiry was going forward, I was not unmindful of the remarks
and observations around me, and, although apparently only occupied with
my own examination, was shrewdly attending to every chance word that
fell at either side of me. I collected quite enough from these to
perceive that the Count was at that moment in England, and in custody
under some very weighty charge; that the difficulty of identification
was one of the obstacles to his committal; and that this was believed
to be surmountable by my aid. Now, I never loved him, nor did he me; but
yet I could not forget how every care of my infancy and childhood was
owing to her who bore his name and shared his fortunes, and that for me
to repay such kindness with an injury would have been the very blackest
ingratitude.

These thoughts passed rapidly through my mind, and as hastily I
determined to act upon them. I asked Mr. Addington to give me a couple
of minutes' audience in private, and he at once led me into an inner
room. In scarcely more words than I have used here to mention the fact,
I told him in what relationship I stood towards the Count, and how
impossible it would be for me to use any knowledge I might possess, to
his detriment.

"I don't think that you have much option in the matter, sir," was his
cold reply. "You can be compelled to give the evidence in question, so
that your very excellent scruples need in no wise be offended."

"Compelled to speak, sir!" cried I, in amazement.

"Just so," said he, with a faint smile.

"And if I still refuse, sir?"

"Then the law must deal with you. Have you anything more to say to me?"

"Nothing," said I, res