olutely; for now my mind was determined, and I no
longer hesitated what course to pursue.

Mr. Addington now returned to the adjoining room, and I followed him.
For a few moments a whispered conversation was maintained between him
and one or two of the others, after which the magistrate, a certain Mr.
Kirby, said to me,--

"It appears, young man, that you have a reluctance, from conscientious
scruples, about giving your evidence in this case; but probably when I
tell you all that is required of you is a simple act of identification,
and, moreover, that the charge against the prisoner is the very
weightiest in the catalogue of crime, you will not any longer hesitate
about your obvious duty."

He waited for a few seconds; but as I made no reply, he went on:--

"This Frenchman is accused of nothing less than the premeditation of
a murder; that he is, in fact, a hired assassin, paid for the crime
of murdering the exiled King of France. The evidence against him is
exceedingly strong; but, of course, the law will place within his reach
every possible means of defence. It is needless to say that no private
or personal feeling can exist in such a case, and I really do not see
how you can decline your aid to the cause of justice."

I was still silent; my difficulties were increasing every moment; and as
they thickened around me, I needed time to decide how to proceed.

Perhaps my anxious appearance may have struck him, for he quickly
said,--

"You will be specially warned against saying anything which might
criminate yourself, so that you need have no fears on that account."

These words at once suggested my course to me; and whatever peril there
might lie in the way, I determined to take shelter under the pretence
that I was myself implicated in the conspiracy. I do not seek to excuse
myself for such a subterfuge; it was the last refuge I saw in the
midst of my difficulties, and I sought it in all the misery of
half-desperation.

"I am not going to betray my confederates, sir," was my dogged reply to
his appeal; and no other could all their argument and entreaties obtain
from me.

Some of those present could not believe me guilty, and warmly pressed me
to rescue myself, ere too late, from the odious imputation; others
but saw their previous impressions confirmed by what they called my
confession; and, between them, my poor head was racked and tortured by
turns. The scene ended at last by my being committed to Newgat