A MADONNA OF THE CELLS. 
289 
say anything you like — that you’ve given up 
the. profession and are going to Australia — if 
you’re not. — or anywhere you please. And 
my notion is that you should start to-night, 
and we’ll pay your fare to where you’re going 
and give you a bit over.” 
She considered the matter, and looked up 
with a smile and said, “ Well, you are a clever 
bloke. No, T don’t believe 1 could go for a 
week.” 
“It would be a jolly sight better for you if 
we arranged for you to go away to-night and 
start from Liverpool in the morning, and be 
well out to sea and away long before the case 
comes on.” 
“ Ah,” said Miss Hopkins. “ I say, Mr. 
Smith, this other young lady must be very 
tasty like. Like me, too 1 How much did 
you say ? Twenty pounds ? No, T wouldn’t 
do it for twenty pounds.” 
“ Didn’t I say twenty-five ? ” asked Mr. 
Smith. 
“ No, you didn’t,” said Miss Hopkins. “ I 
was reading a book the other day where one 
chap said to the other chap, ‘ Done with you 
for double the money. 7 I’ll do it for fifty.” 
“ You shall have it,” said Mr. Smith. 
“ Crumbs ! I’m sorry I didn’t ask a hun- 
dred,” said Miss Hopkins. “ Well, I’ll do it. 
I’m ready to go, and my Tom is ready to marry 
me the moment he sets eyes on me. You tell 
me what to write, and let’s have the money. 
And it isn’t to be cheques, you know.” 
“ Don’t you trouble about the money,” 
said Mr. Smith. “ I’ve got it in cash, and 
you shall have it. when the letter’s written, or 
rather when you give it to me. And after that 
1 want you to come with me up to Jacobson’s 
in Covent Garden, and I’m going to get you 
to dress up exactly like this other young ladv 
and have a photograph taken of you by 
electric light by a pal of mine. D’you twig ? ” 
said Mr, Smith, adopting the language which 
was most familiar to her. 
At Mr. Smith’s dictation she composed the 
following letter : — 
‘‘ My dear old Chap, 1 understand that there 
is a young lady charged with stealing a purse 
at Tilbury’s yesterday, and I am told she’s 
very like me, the dead spit of me, in fact. I 
don’t believe she stole the purse, because I was 
there and took it myself, and 1 wouldn’t like 
the young woman to get into trouble for what 
1 done.” 
u Now put this into an envelope,” said 
Mr. Smith. “ and direct it, and put it into 
your pocket, and we’ll go in a cab and get 
the photograph taken. And when that’s 
done we’ll return home and get your things 
packed, and you shall go to Liverpool by the 
five-fifty-five.” 
“ I’m goin’ first-class ? ” said Miss Hopkins. 
“ Certainly,” said Smith. 11 Of course, 
you will go first-class.” 
And with that they went to Jacobson’s, 
where Miss Hopkins was converted into a 
modest modern Sistine Madonna inside of 
fifteen minutes. After her complexion had 
been .touched up and toned down she looked, 
as she owned, frightfully genteel, and was 
obviously pleased with herself. Mr. Smith 
conveyed her to his friend’s house and had 
her photograph taken by magnesium light, 
developed, and printed, all inside of half an 
hour. It was mounted on an old mount and 
faked a little to make it look less new. On 
the back of it she wrote: “ To dear old 
Chisholm, from his pal Emily Hopkins.” 
lie got her off with her ticket to New York 
by the five-fifty-five express from Euston to 
Liverpool. As she leant out of the first-class 
carriage in which he had placed her she said, 
u Well, good-bye, Mr. Smith ; I don’t suppose 
I’ll ever see you again, but I do think you’re a 
very clever bloke, and I’ll send you a bit of 
my wedding-cake.” 
Mr. Hugo Chisholm was notable among 
the magistrates of London, for though he was 
witty he did not hunger after publicity. He 
was reputed human, and, indeed, humane. 
Among those who came unwillingly to his 
court it was commonly held that if they did 
not get justice they got something more like 
justice with Mr. Chisholm than with any 
other “beak” in London. In private he was 
equally genial and kindly, and Mark Nugent 
was glad to feel that Mr. Chisholm would 
certainly remember him. Much, perhaps, 
depended on the solicitor who was prose- 
cuting. Yet, if any doubt could be thrown 
on the identity of the prisoner, Mr, Forteseue, 
who was reputed as a severe man, was not 
likely to be so hard as usual, for such severity 
would not do his clients any good. 
Nevertheless, Mark felt anxious, although 
Mr. Smith had dropped some hints as to what 
he had been doing the evening before. Out 
of a very proper respect for the Bar, the little 
solicitor had not openly included Nugent in 
his conspiracy. 
Although the morning had been dark, it 
happened that the weather brightened when 
Nina Stewart was brought in. Seeing that 
the prisoner was obviously beautiful, this was 
a good thing ; and the court, which had had 
its obscure corners when the clouds were 
in the sky, was not now quite so sordid 
