Australian Tales - Setis

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Two days afterwards, Charity, covered in crape, entered the police
office with her solicitor, amid the sympathy of the full bench and a
crowded court. The prisoner in the dock looked more sanguinary than
ever, and eyed Charity with maniacal tenderness, which made her dread
that he would leap out of the dock and bite her. Ever and anon he
mumbled that he was Mr. Trout, and had never been murdered, and that
he was going to be married to Miss Glimm. Close confinement, in irons,
amongst the paint pots and oil cans for two days and nights, and on low
diet too, had sadly damaged his appearance. His bald head was bedaubed
with a variety of colours, like a painter's palette, and his nose and
which nearly met — were garnished with engine grease, from his having
used an old wad of cotton waste, in lieu of a pocket handkerchief. It was
not until the gaoler threatened to gag him that he was induced to keep
silent, while Charity gave her evidence.
After a lengthened examination — during which it was pretty generally
believed that the prisoner would be hanged — the magistrate asked,
“Have you had any previous acquaintance with the prisoner, Miss
Glimm?”
“O dear no, your Honour. I never saw him in my life before he attacked
me on board the steamer, in the way I have described,” said Charity, with
an affecting shudder.
“On your oath, madam. Do you say you never saw the prisoner
before?” asked the counsel for the defence.
“Certainly I do, Sir,” said Charity, with a toss of contempt at the mere
assumption that she could be guilty of telling a falsehood. The counsel
then requested that the witness might retire, which she was politely
ordered to do. He then drew from his blue bag a set of teeth, a black wig
with whiskers and beard conjoined, and a black cartout, coat, and vest,
and handed them to the prisoner, who forthwith arrayed himself in them
with magical alacrity: and the improvement in his appearance caused a
buzz of admiration throughout the court, which six constables shouting
silence could not smother. He was then told to step out of the dock, and
to stand near to the door of the ante-room, and Charity was re-admitted.
The moment she saw him, she exclaimed, hysterically, “Good gracious!
Is it possible? Yes, yes, it is my own dear, dear Teddington!” then flung
herself into his arms and fainted away. She was carried from the court to
be rubbed and rinsed into consciousness, and in twenty minutes she reentered
looking much better.
“Do you still assert that you never saw the prisoner at the bar before?”
asked the counsel, pointing to Trout, who was again in the dock in all his
paint-disfigured baldness. “Look at him carefully, Miss Glimm; don't