"That's his voice!" cried the servant, starting in the box.
"Whiskers or no whiskers, that's him!"
"If there's any difficulty, your worship, about the gentleman's
hair," said Mr. Dark, coming forward with a grin, "here's a small
parcel which, I may make so bold as to say, will remove it."
Saying that, he opened the parcel, took some locks of hair out of
it, and held them up close to Mr. James Smith's head. "A pretty
good match, your worship," continued Mr. Dark. "I have no doubt
the gentleman's head feels cooler now it's off. We can't put the
whiskers on, I'm afraid, but they match the hair; and they are in
the paper (if one may say such a thing of whiskers) to speak for
themselves."
"Lies! lies! lies!" screamed Josephine, losing her wicked
self-control at this stage of the proceedings.
The justice made a sign to two of the constables present as she
burst out with those exclamations, and the men removed her to an
adjoining room.
The second servant from the Hall was then put in the box, and was
followed by one of the tenants. After what they had heard and
seen, neither of these men had any hesitation in swearing
positively to their master's identity.
"It is quite unnecessary," said the justice, as soon as the box
was empty again, "to examine any more witnesses as to the
question of identity.
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