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are most preposterous. The very idea that a handkerchief of such quality would remain unclaimed at the hovel of a washerwoman stretches the credibility of any sensible person beyond—."
    "It is not my handkerchief."
    Lady Charlotte stood up from her chair and faced her husband.
    "The handkerchief does not belong to me, and I will testify to that fact under oath. Surely, Husband, you do not claim such a dainty to be your own. If it is not a gift from Missus Peete, how exactly do you explain its presence in our house? If, indeed, it ever was in our house at all."
    "But . . . the handkerchief most certainly is yours, my love," Lord Reginald insisted through clenched teeth. "Surely, in your present state of emotional confusion, and with the multitude of lovely things you have in your dressers and chests, you have forgotten this one."
    In a moment of inspiration, Lord Reginald continued in a most animated manner, "Ah, indeed, I do believe I remember now! It was a gift from me to you. Yes, a token of my affection which I presented to you before our wedding."
    Lady Charlotte turned her attention to Lord Judge North.
    "Your Lordship, that is not my handkerchief!" Lady Charlotte declared. "I request that you allow me to so swear under oath."
    Lord Judge North waved his hand in a dismissive gesture of exasperation. He had heard quite enough.
    "I have considered the evidence," the judge said. "Moreover, I have duly noted, and taken into consideration, the many kindnesses attributed to this defendant in a sworn statement presented to me by one Priscilla Cunningham, most respected head nurse at the Foundling Hospital. Therefore, by the mercy of his Majesty, King George, I hereby grant Grace Winslow a conditional pardon."
    Lord Reginald sprang to his feet. "Your Lordship!" he exclaimed. "I must indeed protest most strenuously!"
    "Protest noted," said Lord Judge North. He did not look at Lord Reginald. The judge cleared his throat and continued: "The stated request is for transportation to our overseas penal colony in America. I shall grant the request for transportation."
    Grace gasped out loud.
    Lady Charlotte, crying with joy, hugged the ladies on each side of her. Both Nurse Cunningham and Missus Peete cheered wildly.
    But Lord Judge North was not finished.
    "However, inasmuch as the American colonies have recently declared themselves to be a free and independent country, they are no longer willing to accept our prisoners on their shores," the judge continued. "Therefore, the defendant, Grace Winslow, shall be placed on a ship even now being made ready to sail in a fortnight to our new penal colony at New South Wales. She will remain there for the rest of her life."
    Then Grace wept.

6
    N ow, then, so ye doesn't know yer own mate, eh?"
    Joseph Winslow, his clothes rumpled and his chin adorned with four days' growth of white bristle, positioned himself squarely in front of Jasper Hathaway. He paid not the slightest mind to the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen who hurried past him on their way to Sunday services. Joseph scratched at his greasy hair, knocking his stained hat askew.
    "I know you well enough," replied Jasper Hathaway with undisguised disgust. He grasped the two sides of his silk coat and did his best to tug them together. As in his days in Africa, his coat strained at the seams. During the past year he had regained every bit of his former girth. "I simply do not care to pass my time with such a one as you. Now, kindly step aside and allow a gentleman to attend to his Sunday obligation."
    Joseph let burst a cackle of sarcastic mirth. "Oh, so it's a gentleman ye be, is it?" he asked. "And if ye be sech a gentlemen, why is ye forever grovelin' at the feet o' that dandy, Lord Reginald Witherham?"
    "You would do well to refrain from showing yourself to be so great a fool, Joseph Winslow!" Mister Hathaway blustered in disgust. "Pray move yourself to one side and allow me to pass."
    "Me Grace is set to be shipped away to the