the door. In
the general wonder no one noticed the change that passed over Rufus
Dawes. His face flushed scarlet, great drops of sweat stood on his
forehead, and his black eyes glared in the direction from whence the
sound came, as though they would pierce the envious wood that separated
him from the woman whose voice he had heard. Maurice Frere sprang up and
pushed his way through the crowd under the bench.

"What's this?" he said to Vickers, almost brutally. "What did you bring
her here for? She is not wanted. I told you that."

"I considered it my duty, sir," says Vickers, with stately rebuke.

"What has frightened her? What has she heard? What has she seen?" asked
Frere, with a strangely white face. "Sylvia, Sylvia!"

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. "Take me home, papa; I'm
ill. Oh, what thoughts!"

"What does she mean?" cried Frere, looking in alarm from one to the
other.

"That ruffian Dawes frightened her," said Meekin. "A gush of
recollection, poor child. There, there, calm yourself, Miss Vickers. He
is quite safe."

"Frightened her, eh?" "Yes," said Sylvia faintly, "he frightened me,
Maurice. I needn't stop any longer, dear, need I?"

"No," says Frere, the cloud passing from his face. "Major, I beg your
pardon, but I was hasty. Take her home at once. This sort of thing is
too much for her." And so he went back to his place, wiping his brow,
and breathing hard, as one who had just escaped from some near peril.

Rufus Dawes had remained in the same attitude until the figure of Frere,
passing through the doorway, roused him. "Who is she?" he said, in a
low, hoarse voice, to the constable behind him. "Miss Vickers," said the
man shortly, flinging the information at him as one might fling a bone
to a dangerous dog.

"Miss Vickers," repeated the convict, still staring in a sort of
bewildered agony. "They told me she was dead!"

The constable sniffed contemptuously at this preposterous conclusion, as
who should say, "If you know all about it, animal, why did you ask?"
and then, feeling that the fixed gaze of his interrogator demanded some
reply, added, "You thort she was, I've no doubt. You did your best to
make her so, I've heard."

The convict raised both his hands with sudden action of wrathful
despair, as though he would seize the other, despite the loaded muskets;
but, checking himself with sudden impulse, wheeled round to the Court.

"Your Honour!--Gentlemen! I want to speak."