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Rh mute surprise. “Gettin' up the scaffolding for a plea of lunacy!” whispered one of the detectives to the other.

“Frederick!” screamed Lady Foggerty from the top of the stairs (she had gone upstairs to bathe her eyes, and only rushed down in time to hear the latter part of Sir Frederick's speech). “Frederick—my darling, my beloved husband—don't take him, gentlemen—he loves me so dearly—it's not true—he never did a dishonest act in his life—don't, don't take him—and on this day of all others!" and so saying, the poor soul fell fainting at his feet.

“Lead on,” said Sir Frederick.

And so they handcuffed him, and drove him off to Marlborough Street Police Station.

He had no substantial defence, but threw himself upon the mercy of the Court, in a speech which has been preserved in the annals of the Old Bailey, as the type of what such a speech should be.

He said, “My Lord, and gentlemen of the jury, I cannot deny that I, before I was me, may have been guilty of the charge imputed to me by the learned counsel for the prosecution, to whose very able and very lucid recital of the varied incidents of my career I have listened with much curiosity. That I have rendered myself amenable to the law I admit. But reflect. I have been for some hours past the toy and sport of a Twelfth Cake fairy, who has tempted me to change my original condition—that of a confectioner in the Borough—for, firstly, that of a slave captain; and secondly, that of a fraudulent banker. Was I a banker or only a manager to a bank? A manager—thank you. Don't you see