"Let it be impossible. The first object is not my defence, but hers."

"Your vision is distorted," Larmer had said angrily. "This may seem to you right and generous, but I tell you it is foolish and unnecessary."

"I will not be guided in this particular thing," Alan rejoined, "by your reason, but by my feeling. An acquittal at her cost would mean a lifelong sorrow."

"If I know anything of women, Miss Campion, who does not quite hate you, would insist on having the whole story told in open court. Perhaps she may return to England in time for the trial, and then she can decide the point herself."

"Heaven forbid!" Alan had said. And he meant it. Worse than that, he tortured himself with the idea, which he called a firm belief, that Lettice had heard, or would hear, of his disgraceful position, that she would be unable to doubt that he had struck the fatal blow, and that he would be dropped out of her heart and out of her life as a matter of course. How could it be otherwise? What was he to her, that she should believe him innocent in spite of appearances; or that, believing him merely unfortunate and degraded, she should not think less well of him than when he held his name high in the world of letters and in society?

"That dream is gone," he said. "Let me forget it, and wake to the new life that opens before me. A new life--born in a police cell, baptized in a criminal court, suckled in a prison, and trained in solitary adversity. That is the fate for which I have been reserved. I may be nearly fifty when I come out--a broken-down man, without reputation and without a hope. Truly, the dream is at an end; and oh, G.o.d of Heaven, make her forget me as though we had never met!"

So, when Mr. Larmer frankly told him all that Sydney Campion had said, Alan could not find it in his heart to blame Lattice's brother for his hostility.

CHAPTER XXVI.

IN COURT.

No doubt it was from some points of view an unprofessional act of Sydney Campion to appear in court as counsel for the prosecution of Alan Walcott. Sydney knew that he was straining a rule of etiquette, to say the least of it; but, under the circ.u.mstances, he held himself justified in fishing for the brief.

The matter had been taken up by the Treasury, and Sydney had asked an intimate friend, who was also a friend of the Attorney-General, to give the latter a hint. Now Sir James was, above all things, a suave and politic man of the world, who thought that persons of position and influence got on best in the intricate game of life by deftly playing into each other's hands. When one gentleman could do something for another gentleman, to oblige and accommodate him, it was evidently the proper course to do it gracefully and without fuss. Campion's motives were clearly excellent. As he understood the business (although the amba.s.sador put it very delicately indeed), a lady's reputation was at stake; and if Sir James prided himself on one thing more than another, it was his gallantry and discretion in matters of this kind. So he told his friend to go back and set Mr. Campion's mind at rest; and in the course of a day or two Sydney received his brief.

"Who is going to defend?" he asked his clerk, when he had glanced at his instructions.

"I heard just now that Larmer had retained Mr. Charles Milton."

"Charles Milton! The deuce! It will be a pretty little fight, Johnson!"

"They don't seem to have a leg to stand on; the evidence is all one way, even without the wife. I don't know what his story is, but it cannot have any corroboration--and hers is well supported."

"I am told she will be able to appear. She seems to be a terrible talker--that is the worst of her. I must keep her strictly within the ropes."

"The other side will not have the same motives," said Johnson, who knew all about the scandal which had preceded the a.s.sault, and who wanted to get his employer to speak.

"You think Mr. Milton will draw her on?"

"Sure to, I should say. If I were defending (since you ask me), I would not loose my grip until I had got her into a rage; and from all I hear that would make the jury believe her capable of anything, even of stabbing herself and swearing it on her husband."

"But, my good fellow, you are not defending him! And I'll take care she is not worked up in that fashion. Thanks for the suggestion, all the same. They will contend that it was done in a struggle."

"Against that, you have her evidence that the blow was deliberate; and I think the jury will believe her."

"They can't help themselves: motive, incitements, favoring circ.u.mstances, are all too manifest. And that just makes the difficulty and delicacy of the case for me. I want the jury to see the whole thing impartially, that they may do justice, without bias and without foolish weakness; and yet there are certain matters connected with it which need not be dwelt upon--which must, in fact, be kept in the background altogether. Do you see?"

"I think I do." Johnson was a good deal in Sydney's confidence, being a man of much discretion, and with considerable knowledge of the law. He felt that his advice was being asked, or at any rate his opinion, and he met Mr. Campion's searching gaze with one equally cool and serious.

"I have no doubt you know as much about it as I could tell you. You seem to hear everything from one source or another. Do you understand why it is that I am going into court? It is not altogether a regular thing to do, is it?"

"I suppose you wish to keep the evidence well in hand," Johnson replied, readily. "A lady's name has been used in a very unwarrantable manner, and--since you ask me--you have undertaken to see that there is no unnecessary repet.i.tion of the matter in court."

"Precisely so--no repet.i.tion at all."

"You will examine your own witness, and, of course, you need not go behind the scene in Surrey Street, at which the crime was actually committed--except in opening your case. What the jury will say is this: husband and wife on bad terms, separated, and divorce pending; wife comes to husband's rooms, reproaches him; recriminations; dagger handy on the table (very bad for him that); a sudden temptation, a sudden blow, and there's an end of it. No need to prove they were on bad terms, with all those facts before you."

"But then comes the defence."

"Well, sir, what is their line going to be? If they want to persuade the jury that she did it herself, or that it was an accident, they will not dwell upon all the reasons which might have tempted him to take her life. That would be weakening their own case."

"And Milton is capable of doing it!" said Sydney, talking to himself.

"But if they think the jury will be bound to believe that he stabbed her, no doubt they would go in for blackening her, and then they might cross-examine her about those other things."

"That is where the danger comes in."

Sydney's words were equivalent to another question, but Johnson preserved a perfectly stolid face. It was all very well for him to advise his employer, and work up his cases for him if necessary. He was accustomed to do both these things, and his help had been invaluable to Sydney for several years past. But it was out of his line to display more confidence than was displayed in him, or to venture on delicate ground before he had received a lead.

"Yes, that's were the danger comes in," Sydney repeated. "I have reason to believe that there is a disposition on their part to keep the lady's name out of the case; but they are not pledged to it; and if they find things looking very bad for Walcott, they may show fight in that direction. Then there is Mr. Milton--no instructions can altogether gag counsel. I don't know that I have ever given him cause of offence, but I have an instinctive feeling that he would rather enjoy putting me in a hole."

"I think you would have the judge with you in any objection which you might take."

"But it would be a misfortune, as things stand, even to have to take objection. Not only do I want to avoid the introduction of these extraneous matters, but I should strongly object to figure in any way as watching Miss Campion's interests. It would be very bad indeed for me to have to do that. What I desire is that her interests should at no moment of the trial appear, even to those who know the circ.u.mstances, to be involved."

"I quite see," said Johnson. "And since you ask me, I don't think you have much to fear. It is a delicate position, but both sides are of the same mind on the particular point, and it is most improbable that any indiscretion will occur. Prosecution and defence both want to avoid a certain pitfall--when they won't struggle on the edge of it. What do you say, Mr. Campion, to setting forth in your opening statement all that is known about their previous quarrels, not concealing that the woman has been rather outrageous, in her foreign fashion, but quietly ignoring the fact of her jealousy?"

"That would be too bold--it would excite her, and possibly move the defence to needless retorts."

"As for exciting her, if she is thoroughly convinced that his conviction will spoil his chance of a divorce, she will take the whole thing coolly enough. My idea was that by opening fully, and touching on every point, you would escape the appearance of shirking anything. And at the same time you would be suggesting these motives for violence on Walcott's part which, as you said, it would be their business to avoid."

"There is a good deal in that," said Sydney, reflectively. "It is worth considering. Yes, two heads are certainly better than one. I see that I am instructed to ask about the attempt on her life at Aix-les-Bains.

Why, what a rascal the man has been to her! No wonder she is venemous now."

When the trial took place, the court was crowded with men and women who were anxious to see the princ.i.p.al actors in what was popularly known as the Surrey Street Mystery. They were both there--Alan pale and haggard from his long suspense, and Cora, much pulled down by what she had gone through. Of the two, she was, perhaps, the more interesting. Illness and loss of blood had done something to efface the dissipated look which had become habitual with her; she was languid and soberly dressed; and, moreover, she understood, as Mr. Johnson had said she would, that the conviction of her husband would put his divorce out of the question, at any rate for some time to come. So it was her business to look interesting, and injured, and quiet; and she was cunning enough to play this part successfully.

Alan, on the other hand, was completely indifferent as to the opinion which might be formed of him, and almost indifferent as to the verdict.

When he came into court he looked carefully round at the women who were present among the spectators, but, not seeing the one face which he had both dreaded and hoped to see, he fell back into his former lethargy, and took very little interest in the proceedings.

Sydney Campion opened the case for the prosecution in a business-like way, just glancing at the unhappy relations which had existed between the prisoner and his wife for several years past, and freely admitting that there appeared to have been faults on both sides. He took the common-sense view of a man of the world speaking to men of the world, and did not ask the sympathies of the jury for the injured woman who had come straight from the hospital to that court, but only their impartial attention to the evidence which would be brought before them, and the expression of their deliberate opinion on the innocence or guilt of the accused.

Nothing could be more fair than his observations--or so it appeared to the majority of Campion's hearers. No doubt he had referred to the affair at Aix-les-Bains as though it were a matter of evidence, instead of mere allegation, and to the recent quarrels in England as though the "faults on both sides" had been clearly established. But he was supposed to be speaking in strict accordance with his instructions, and, of course, it was open to the defence to question anything which he had said.

Then came the evidence for the prosecution, the substance of which is already known to the reader; but Cora's account of the quarrel in Surrey Street was so ingeniously colored and distorted that Alan found himself listening with something like genuine amus.e.m.e.nt to the questions of counsel and the replies of his lying wife.

"And so," said Mr. Campion, after she had spoken of her earnest appeal for the renewal of friendship, and of her husband's insulting refusal, "you came to high words. Did you both keep the same positions whilst you were talking?"

"For a long time, until I lost patience, and then--yes, let me speak the whole truth--I threw a certain book at him."