Lady Georgina broke into a hysterical laugh. 'Where is he, my dear?

That's the question. With consummate strategy, the wretch has disappeared into s.p.a.ce at the last moment.'

'That's artful again,' I said. 'His presence could only damage their case. I can see, of course, Lord Southminster has no need of him.'

'Southminster's the wiliest fool that ever lived,' Harold broke out bitterly. 'Under that mask of imbecility, he's a fox for trickiness.'

I bit my lip. 'Well, if you succeed in evading him,' I said, 'you will have cleared your character. And if you don't--then, Harold, our time will have come: you will have your longed-for chance of trying me.'

'That won't do me much good,' he answered, 'if I have to wait fourteen years for you--at Portland.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CROSS-EYED Q.C. BEGGED HIM TO BE VERY CAREFUL.]

Next morning, in court, I heard Harold's cross-examination. He described exactly where he had found the contested will in his uncle's escritoire.

The cross-eyed Q.C., a heavy man with bloated features and a bulbous nose, begged him, with one fat uplifted forefinger, to be very careful.

How did he know where to look for it?

'Because I knew the house well: I knew where my uncle was likely to keep his valuables.'

'Oh, indeed; _not_ because you had put it there?'

The court rang with laughter. My face grew crimson.

After an hour or two of fencing, Harold was dismissed. He stood down, baffled. Counsel recalled Lord Southminster.

The pea-green young man, stepping briskly up, gazed about him, open-mouthed, with a vacant stare. The look of cunning on his face was carefully suppressed. He wore, on the contrary, an air of injured innocence combined with an eye-gla.s.s.

'_You_ did not put this will in the drawer where Mr. Tillington found it, did you?' counsel asked.

The pea-green young man laughed. 'No, I certainly didn't put it theah.

My cousin Harold was man in possession. He took jolly good care _I_ didn't come neah the premises.'

'Do you think you could forge a will if you tried?'

Lord Southminster laughed. 'No, I don't,' he answered, with a well-a.s.sumed _navete_. 'That's just the difference between us, don't yah know. _I'm_ what they call a fool, and my cousin Harold's a precious clevah fellah.'

There was another loud laugh.

'That's not evidence,' the judge observed, severely.

It was not. But it told far more than much that was. It told strongly against Harold.

'Besides,' Lord Southminster continued, with engaging frankness, 'if I forged a will at all, I'd take jolly good care to forge it in my own favah.'

My turn came next. Our counsel handed me the incriminated will. 'Did you draw up this doc.u.ment?' he asked.

I looked at it closely. The paper bore our Florentine water-mark, and was written with a Spread-Eagle. 'I type-wrote it,' I answered, gazing at it with care to make sure I recognised it.

Our counsel's business was to uphold the will, not to cast aspersions upon it. He was evidently annoyed at my close examination. 'You have no doubts about it?' he said, trying to prompt me.

I hesitated. 'No, no doubts,' I answered, turning over the sheet and inspecting it still closer. 'I type-wrote it at Florence.'

'Do you recognise that signature as Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's?' he went on.

I stared at it. Was it his? It was like it, certainly. Yet that _k_? and those _s_'s? I almost wondered.

Counsel was obviously annoyed at my hesitation. He thought I was playing into the enemy's hands. 'Is it his, or is it not?' he inquired again, testily.

'It is his,' I answered. Yet I own I was troubled.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I WAS A GROTESQUE FAILURE.]

He asked many questions about the circ.u.mstances of the interview when I took down the will. I answered them all. But I vaguely felt he and I were at cross-purposes. I grew almost as uncomfortable under his gaze as if he had been examining me in the interest of the other side. He managed to fl.u.s.ter me. As a witness for Harold, I was a grotesque failure.

Then the cross-eyed Q.C., rising and shaking his huge bulk, began to cross-examine me. 'Where did you type-write this thing, do you say?' he said, pointing to it contemptuously.

'In my office at Florence.'

'Yes, I understand; you had an office in Florence--after you gave up retailing bicycles on the public roads; and you had a partner, I think--a Miss Petherick, or Petherton, or Pennyfarthing, or something?'

'Miss Petheridge,' I corrected, while the Court t.i.ttered.

'Ah, Petheridge, you call it! Well, now answer this question carefully.

Did your Miss Petheridge hear Mr. Ashurst dictate the terms of his last will and testament?'

'No,' I answered. 'The interview was of a strictly confidential character. Mr. Ashurst took me aside into the back room at our office.'

'Oh, he took you aside? Confidential? Well, now we're getting at it. And did anybody but yourself see or hear any part whatsoever of this precious doc.u.ment?'

'Certainly not,' I replied. 'It was a private matter.'

'Private! oh, very! n.o.body else saw it. Did Mr. Ashurst take it away from the office in person?'

'No; he sent his courier for it.'

'His courier? The man Higginson?'

'Yes; but I refused to give it to Higginson. I took it myself that night to the hotel where Mr. Ashurst was stopping.'

'Ah! You took it yourself. So the only other person who knows anything at first hand about the existence of the alleged will is this person Higginson?'

'Miss Petheridge knows,' I said, flushing. 'At the time, I told her of it.'

'Oh, _you_ told her. Well, that doesn't help us much. If what you are swearing isn't true--remember, you are on your oath--what you told Miss Petherick or Petheridge or Pennyfarthing, "at the time," can hardly be regarded as corroborative evidence. Your word then and your word now are just equally valuable--or equally worthless. The only person who knows besides yourself is Higginson. Now, I ask you, _where_ is Higginson?

_Are_ you going to produce him?'

The wicked cunning of it struck me dumb. They were keeping him away, and then using his absence to cast doubts on my veracity. 'Stop,' I cried, taken aback, 'Higginson is well known to be a rogue, and he is keeping away lest he may damage your side. I know nothing of Higginson.'

'Yes, I'm coming to that in good time. Don't be afraid that we're going to pa.s.s over Higginson. You admit this man is a man of bad character.