6. WE AGREE TO COMPROMISE


Colonel Morris' side of the case was now to be heard, and heads were
bending eagerly forward to catch each word of wisdom that should fall
from the lips of Serjeant Playfire, when I felt a hand, cold as ice,
laid on mine, and turning, beheld Miss Blake at my elbow.

She was as white as the nature of her complexion would permit, and her
voice shook as she whispered:

"Take me away from this place, will you?"

I cleared a way for her out of the court, and when we reached
Westminster Hall, seeing how upset she seemed, asked if I could get
anything for her--"a glass of water, or wine," I suggested, in my
extremity.

"Neither water nor wine will mend a broken heart," she answered,
solemnly; "and mine has been broken in there"--with a nod she indicated
the court we had just left.

Not remembering at the moment an approved recipe for the cure of such a
fracture, I was cudgelling my brains to think of some form of reply not
likely to give offence, when, to my unspeakable relief, Mr. Craven came
up to where we stood.

"I will take charge of Miss Blake now, Patterson," he said,
gravely--very gravely; and accepting this as an intimation that he