This letter almost drove young Wardlaw mad. He went to Adams and
entreated him not to carry the matter into court. But Adams was
inexorable. He had got his money, but would be revenged for the fright.

Baffled here, young Wardlaw went down to Oxford and shut himself up in
his own room, a prey to fear and remorse. He sported his oak, and never
went out. All his exercise was that of a wild beast in its den, walking
restlessly up and down.

But all his caution did not prevent the prisoner's solicitor from getting
to him. One morning, at seven o'clock, a clerk slipped in at the heels of
his scout, and, coming to young Wardlaw's bedside, awoke him out of an
uneasy slumber by serving him with a subpoena to appear as Robert
Penfold's witness.

This last stroke finished him. His bodily health gave way under his
mental distress. Gastric fever set in, and he was lying tossing and
raving in delirium, while Robert Penfold was being tried at the Central
Criminal Court.

The trial occupied six hours, and could easily be made rather
interesting. But, for various reasons, with which it would not be good
taste to trouble the reader, we decide to skim it.

The indictment contained two counts; one for forging the note of hand,
the other for uttering it knowing it to be forged.

On the first count, the Crown was weak, and had to encounter the evidence
of Undercliff, the distinguished expert, who swore that the hand which