The Star Chamber once more!

For an hour before the sitting of the Court an unwonted excitement pervaded its precincts—for the news of the tragic events of the preceding day had gone abroad till London was ringing with it.

The warders within the building were doubled in number, and a strong party of halberdiers kept order in the purlieus of Westminster.

The reason of this display of force was soon manifested.

From the Temple and from Gray's Inn the young law students had assembled in great strength, and with them were the 'prentices from the City, brandishing their clubs and evidently eager for a fray.

Among the young "limbs of the law" the twin brothers were well known, and their recent exploit on the Thames had raised their popularity to a burning heat, while the 'prentices found sufficient justification for their presence in the fact that Sir John Jefferay was the Member of Parliament for the City, and his cause was theirs also.

As the Pursuivant and his men made their way towards the Chamber, protected by a strong body of armed men, curses loud and deep were hurled at them from a thousand throats.

A sudden change to cheering and hurrahing took place as the multitude recognized the Treasurer of Gray's Inn and the Master of the Rolls, who were passing through the streets in company.

London had seldom been so agitated—nor was the excitement lessened when the halberdiers were strengthened by some troops of the Household Guards from Whitehall. Inside the Chambers many of the notabilities of the Court had gathered together, and when the judges entered it, it was noted that nearly the whole of its august body of members was present.

By the side of Cardinal Pole sat the Bishop of London, Edmund Bonner, a Prelate whose attendance at this Court was a rare event.

But behind them sat a figure upon whom all eyes were fixed—it was King Philip.

He was dressed in a suit of black velvet without ornament of any kind, yet its dark hue was somewhat relieved by the spotless whiteness of the Valenciennes lace which bedecked his neck and wrists.

He was of moderate stature and very spare in body. His long oval face was somewhat colourless, he wore a beard and moustache of a sandy colour. His large piercing eyes were of a sombre blue, the mouth large, with heavy hanging lip and protruding lower jaw. His demeanour was still and silent, tinged with a Castilian haughtiness. Philip was thirty years of age at this period, but men would have given him credit for a longer record; perhaps the cares of his world-wide sovereignty had made him prematurely old.

Few mortals loved Philip; yet one fond heart had given itself to him unreservedly, for Mary loved her husband with a devotion as deep as it was unrequited.

The opening of the Court had not yet been formally declared, and a murmur of subdued voices in eager consultation filled the air.

Men noted that the King was conversing with the dignified ecclesiastics in front of him.

Presently a silver trumpet sounded, and the Lord High Chancellor took his seat as President of the Court. A dead silence ensued, and the Clerk thereupon pronounced the Court open.

All eyes turned to the dock as the prisoner was seen to be entering it, bowing low to the Court as he did so.

His friends had mustered strongly in the Chamber, and an unrestrainable murmur of sympathy arose from them as they marked the deathly pallor of his youthful countenance, his wounded arm (still supported in a sling) and a great scar of a recent wound on his handsome face.

The case was duly "called on," and the charge of riot and assault was made against the prisoner.

Ralph would have pleaded "Guilty" forthwith, but Sir John had addressed himself to this matter at his interview with Ralph at the Fleet prison on the preceding evening, and upon his advice the prisoner pleaded "Not Guilty!"

Thereupon the Pursuivant took his place in the witness-box and proceeded to set forth, with great detail, the well-known tale of the assault in Chiddingly woods. He now swore that the prisoner in the dock, Ralph Jefferay, was his assailant, and this was duly corroborated by his witnesses.

At this point Cardinal Pole addressed the President—

"Yesterday, my Lord President, Mr. Pursuivant swore, with equal assurance, as to the identity of Mr. William Jefferay with his assailant. We know now that he was mistaken,—may he not err in the present case?"

The Pursuivant rose again hastily and, bowing to the President, said—

"May I answer His Eminence the Cardinal, my Lord?"

The Earl of Arundel bowed assent, and the Pursuivant proceeded to explain his first error.

"Yesterday, my lords, I was not aware of the extraordinary likeness which exists between the twin brothers Mr. William and Mr. Ralph Jefferay, a likeness so wonderful that no man may tell them apart but by some sign or symbol. One of my witnesses, who is a Lewes man and knows the Jefferays well by sight, informed me of this fact when the verdict of acquittal was given in this Court yesterday. The sign of distinction between the brothers is a very simple one—Mr. William always wears a grey cap and Mr. Ralph a blue one. Now on the occasion of the assault I solemnly swore that my assailant, Ralph Jefferay, the prisoner, wore a grey cap, whether by design or accident I cannot say, hence the mistake of identity."

The Pursuivant sat down with a malignant gleam of satisfaction in his fierce black eyes.

There was silence in the Court and the judges consulted with each other; presently the Chancellor spoke.

"The Court would fain see these wonderful brothers side by side," he said. "Is Mr. William Jefferay here?"

The Clerk of the Court beckoned to Sir John Jefferay, who stood near to him, and, after a brief conversation, said—

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