"Isn't my learned friend going to call the prisoner?" suggested Mr.

Walters, with the cunning design of giving the jury something to think of when they were listening to his learned friend's address.

"It's scarcely necessary," said Mr. Holymead, who saw the trap, and replied in a tone which indicated that the matter was not worth a moment's consideration.

He began his address to the jury by emphasising the fact that a fellow creature's life depended on the result of their deliberations. The duty that rested upon them of saying whether the prosecution had established beyond all reasonable doubt that the prisoner shot Sir Horace Fewbanks was a solemn and impressive one. He asked them to consider the case carefully in all its bearings. He could not claim for his client that he was a man of spotless reputation. The prisoner belonged to a cla.s.s who earned their living by warring against society. But that fact did not make him a murderer. On what did the case for the prosecution rest?

On the evidence of Hill and three other witnesses who, on the night of the murder, had seen a man somewhat resembling the prisoner in the vicinity of Riversbrook, or making towards the vicinity of that house.

But so far from wishing to emphasise the weakness of identification he admitted that the prisoner went to Riversbrook with the intention of committing a burglary.

"We admit that he went there the night Sir Horace Fewbanks returned from Scotland," he continued. "Counsel for the prosecution will make the most of those admissions in the course of his address to you, but the point to which I wish to direct your attention is that we make this damaging admission so that you may decide between the prisoner and the man who led him into a trap by instigating the burglary. Now we come to the evidence of Hill. I know you will not convict a man of murder on the unsupported evidence of a fellow criminal. But I want to point out to you that even if Hill's evidence were true in every detail, even if Hill had not swerved one iota from the truth, there is nothing in his evidence to lead to the positive conclusion that the prisoner murdered Hill's master, Sir Horace Fewbanks. What does Hill's evidence against the prisoner amount to? Let us accept it for the moment as absolutely true. Later on I will show you plainly that the man is a liar, that he is a cunning scoundrel, and that his evidence is utterly unreliable. But accepting for the moment his evidence as true the case against the prisoner amounts to this: by threats of exposure Birchill compelled Hill to consent to Riversbrook being robbed while the owner was in Scotland.

"Hill's complicity, according to his own story, extended only to supplying a plan of the house and giving Birchill some information as to where various articles of value would be found. On the 18th of August Hill went to Riversbrook to see that everything was in order for the burglary that night. While he was there his master returned unexpectedly.

Hill then went to the flat in Westminster and told Birchill that Sir Horace had returned. His own story is that he tried to get Birchill to abandon the idea of the burglary, but that Birchill, who had been drinking, swore that he would carry out the plan, and that if he came across Sir Horace he would shoot him. What grudge had Birchill against Sir Horace Fewbanks? The fact that Sir Horace had discarded the woman Fanning because of her a.s.sociation with Birchill. Gentlemen, does a man commit a murder for a thing of that kind?

"Let us test the credibility of the man who has tried to swear away the life of the prisoner. You saw him in the witness-box, and I have no doubt formed your own conclusions as to the type of man he is. Did he strike you as a man who would stand by the truth above all things, or a man who would lie persistently in order to save his own skin? That the man cannot be believed even when on his oath has been publicly demonstrated in the courts of the land. The story he told the court yesterday in the witness-box of his movements on the day of the murder is quite different to the story he told on his oath at the inquest on the body of Sir Horace Fewbanks. Let me read to you the evidence he gave at the inquest."

Mr. Finnis handed to his leader a copy of Hill's evidence at the inquest, and Mr. Holymead read it out to the jury. He then read out a shorthand writer's account of Hill's evidence on the previous day.

"Which of these accounts are we to believe?" he said, turning to the jury. "The latter one, the prosecution says. But why, I ask? Because it tallies with the statement extorted from Hill by the police under the threat of charging him with the murder. Does that make it more credible?

Is a man like Hill, who is placed in that position, likely to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? It is an insult to the jury as men of intelligence to ask you to believe Hill's evidence. I do not ask you to believe the story he told at the inquest in preference to the story he told here in the witness-box yesterday. I ask you to regard both stories as the evidence of a man who is too deeply implicated in this crime to be able to speak the truth.

"I will prove to you, gentlemen of the jury, that the man is a criminal by instinct and a liar by necessity--the necessity of saving his own skin. He robbed his former master, Lord Melhurst, and he planned to rob his late master, Sir Horace Fewbanks. But knowing that his former crime would be brought against him when the police came to investigate a robbery at Riversbrook he was too cunning to rob Riversbrook himself. He looked about him for an accomplice and he selected Birchill. You heard him say in the witness-box that he drew Birchill a plan of Riversbrook--the plan I now hold in my hand. I will ask you to inspect the plan closely. Hill told us that Birchill terrorised him into drawing this plan by threats of exposure. Exposure of what? His master, Sir Horace Fewbanks, knew he had been in gaol, so what had he to fear from exposure? His proper course, if he were an honest man, would have been to tell his master that Birchill was planning to rob the house and had endeavoured to draw him into the crime. But he did nothing of the kind, for the simple reason that the plan to rob Riversbrook was his own, and not Birchill's.

"Now, gentlemen, you have all seen the plan which this tainted witness declares was drawn by him because Birchill terrorised him and stood over him while he drew it. Is there anything in that plan to suggest that it was drawn by a man in a state of nervous terror? Why, the lines are as firmly drawn as if they had been made by an architect working at his leisure in his office. Was this plan drawn by a man in a state of nervous terror with his tormentor standing threateningly over him, or was it drawn up by a man working at leisure, free not only from terror but from interruption? The answer to that question is supplied in the evidence given by three witnesses as to the paper used. Hill says the plan was drawn at the flat. Two other witnesses swore that it was paper supplied exclusively for Government Departments, and another witness swore that he had taken such paper to Riversbrook for the use of Sir Horace Fewbanks, who, like every one of His Majesty's judges, found it necessary to do some of his judicial work at home. What is the inevitable inference? I ask you if you can have any doubt, after looking at that plan and after hearing the evidence given to-day about the paper, that the proposal to rob Riversbrook was Hill's own proposal, that Hill drew a plan of the house on paper he abstracted from his master's desk--paper which this confidential servant was apparently in the habit of using for private purposes--and that he gave it to Birchill when he asked Birchill to join him in the crime?

"When one of the main features of Hill's story is proved to be false, how can you believe any of the rest? In the light in which we now see him, with his cunning exposed, what significance is to be attached to his statement that Birchill in his presence threatened to shoot Sir Horace Fewbanks if the master of Riversbrook interfered with him? Such a threat was not made, but why should Hill say it was made? For the same reason that he lied about the plan--to save his own skin. I submit to you, gentlemen, that when Hill went to see Birchill at the Westminster flat on the night arranged for the burglary Sir Horace Fewbanks was dead--murdered--and that Hill knew he was murdered. His own story is that he tried to persuade Birchill to abandon the proposed burglary, but, according to the witness Fanning, he did all in his power to induce Birchill to carry out the original plan when he saw that Birchill was disposed to postpone the burglary in view of the return of the master of Riversbrook. Why did he want Birchill to carry out the burglary? Because he knew that his master's murdered body was lying in the house, and he wanted to be in the position to produce evidence against Birchill as the murderer if he found himself in a tight corner as the result of the subsequent investigations of the police. Remember that the body of the victim was fully dressed when it was discovered by the police, and that none of the electric lights were burning. Does not that prove conclusively that the murder was not committed by Birchill, that Sir Horace Fewbanks was dead when Birchill broke into the house?

"Birchill, an experienced criminal, would not break into the house while there was anybody moving about. He would wait until the house was in darkness and the inmates asleep. To do otherwise would increase enormously the risks of capture. But the fact that the police found the body of the murdered man fully dressed shows that Sir Horace was murdered before he went to bed--before Birchill broke into the house. It shows conclusively that the murder was committed before dusk. Your only alternatives to that conclusion are that the murdered man went to bed with his clothes on, or that the murderer broke into the house before Sir Horace had gone to bed and after killing Sir Horace went coolly round the house turning out the lights instead of fleeing in terror at his deed without even waiting to collect any booty. I am sure that as reasonable men you will reject both these alternatives as absurd. No evidence has been produced to show that anything has been stolen from the place. It was evidently the theory of the prosecution that the prisoner, after shooting Sir Horace, had fled. The evidence of Hill was that he arrived at Fanning's flat in a state of great excitement. His excitement would be consistent with his story of having discovered the body of a murdered man, but not consistent with the conduct of a cold-blooded calculating murderer who had broken into the house before Sir Horace had undressed for bed, had shot him, and had then gone round the house turning out the lights without having any apparent object in doing so.

"Gentlemen, I think you will admit that the crime must have been committed before dusk; before any lights were turned on. I do not ask you to say that Hill is guilty. The responsibility of saying what man other than the prisoner shot Sir Horace Fewbanks does not rest with you. But I do urge you to ask yourselves whether, as between Hill and the prisoner, the probability of guilt is not on the side of this witness who lied to the coroner's court about his movements on the night of the murder, and who lied to this court about the plan for the robbery of Riversbrook. I have shown you that Hill was the master mind in planning the burglary, and, that being so, would not Birchill have consented to the postponement of the burglary if Hill had urged him to do so when he visited the flat after the unexpected return of the master of Riversbrook? Is not the evidence of the witness Fanning, that Hill urged Birchill to carry out the burglary after Sir Horace had gone to sleep, more credible than Hill's statement that he endeavoured to induce Birchill to abandon the proposed crime? Knowing what you know of Hill's past as a man who will rob his master, knowing that he attempted to deceive you with regard to this plan of Riversbrook in order that you might play your part in his cunning scheme, I urge you to ask yourselves whether it is not more probable that Hill fired the shot which killed Sir Horace Fewbanks than that the prisoner did so. Is it not extremely probable that the unexpected return of Sir Horace upset Hill, who was giving a final look round the house before the burglary took place? That, instead of answering his master with the suave obsequious humility of the well-trained servant, he revealed the baffled ferocity of a criminal whose carefully arranged plan seemed to have miscarried; that his master angrily rebuked him, and Hill, losing control of himself, sprang at Sir Horace, and the struggle ended with Hill drawing a revolver and shooting his master?

"The rest of the story from that point can be constructed without difficulty. The murderer's first thought was to divert suspicion from himself, and the best way to do that was to divert suspicion elsewhere.

He locked up the house and went to see Birchill. He urged Birchill to break into Riversbrook, in which the dead body of the murdered man lay.

It is true that he need not have told Birchill that Sir Horace had returned unexpectedly; but his object in doing so was to make Birchill search about the house until he inadvertently stumbled across the dead body. Had Birchill been under the impression that he had broken into an entirely empty house he would have collected the valuables and might not have entered the library in which the dead body lay. It was necessary for Hill's purpose that Birchill should come across the corpse; then he would be vitally interested in diverting suspicion from himself (Birchill) and that is why he cunningly revealed to Birchill that Sir Horace had returned. I put it to the jury that such is a more probable explanation of how Sir Horace met his death than that he was shot down by Birchill. I ask you again to remember that the body was fully dressed when it was found by the police. I put it to you that in this matter the prisoner walked into a trap prepared by his more cunning fellow criminal. And I urge you, with all the earnestness it is possible for a man to use when the life of a fellow creature is at stake, not to be led into a trap--not to play the part this cunning criminal Hill has designed for you--in the sacrifice of the life of an innocent man for the purpose of saving himself from his just deserts. Looking at the whole case--as you will not fail to do--with the breadth of view of experienced men of the world, with some knowledge of the workings of human nature, with a natural horror of the depths of cunning of which some natures are capable, with a deep sense of the solemn responsibility for a human life upon you, I confidently appeal to you to say that the prisoner was not the man who shot Sir Horace Fewbanks, and to bring in a verdict of 'not guilty,'"

A short discussion arose between the bench and bar on the question of adjourning the court or continuing the case in the hope of finishing it in a few hours. Sir Henry Hodson wanted to finish the case that night, but Counsel for the prosecution intimated that his address to the jury would take nearly two hours. As it was then nearly five o'clock, and His Honour had to sum up before the jury could retire, it was hardly to be hoped that the case could be finished that night, as the jury might be some time in arriving at a verdict. His Honour decided to adjourn the court and finish the case next day.

CHAPTER XIX

Mr. Walters began his address to the jury on orthodox lines. He referred to the fact that his learned friend had warned them that the life of a fellow creature rested on their verdict. It was right that they should keep that in mind; it was right that they should fully realise the responsible nature of the duty they were called upon to perform, but it would be wrong for them to over-estimate their responsibility, or to feel weighed down by it. It would be wrong for them to be influenced by sentimental considerations of the fact that a fellow creature's life was at stake. Strictly speaking, that had nothing whatever to do with them.

Their responsibility ended with their verdict. If their verdict was "guilty" the responsibility of taking the prisoner's life would rest upon the law--not on the jury, not on His Honour who pa.s.sed the sentence of death, not on the prison officials who carried out the execution. The jury would do well to keep in mind the fact that their responsibility in this trial, impressive and important as every one must acknowledge it to be, was nevertheless strictly limited as far as the taking of the life of the prisoner was concerned.

He then went over the evidence in detail, building up again the case for the prosecution where Mr. Holymead had made breaches in it, and attempting to demolish the case for the defence. Hill, he declared, was an honest witness. The man had made one false step but he had done his best to retrieve it, and with the help he had received from his late master, Sir Horace Fewbanks, he would have buried the past effectively if it had not been for the fact that the prisoner, who was a confirmed criminal, had determined to drag him down. There was no doubt that Hill's a.s.sociation with Birchill had been unfortunate for him. It had dragged his past into the light of day, and he stood before them a ruined man. He had tried to live down the past, and but for Birchill he would have succeeded in doing so. But now no one would employ him as a house servant after the revelations that had been made in this court. They had seen Hill in the witness-box, and he would ask the jury whether he looked like the masterful cunning scoundrel which the defence had described, or a weak creature who would be easily led by a man of strong will, such as the prisoner was.

As to what took place at the flat, they had a choice between the evidence of Hill and the evidence of the girl Fanning. Hill had told them that he had tried to dissuade the prisoner from going to Riversbrook to burgle the premises, because his master had returned unexpectedly; Fanning had told them that the prisoner was in favour of postponing the crime, but that Hill had urged him to carry it out. Which story was the more probable? What reliance could they place on the evidence of Fanning? He did not wish to say that the witness was utterly vicious and incapable of telling the truth--a description that the defence had applied to Hill--but they must take into consideration the fact that Fanning was the prisoner's mistress. Was it likely that a woman, knowing her lover's life was at stake, would come here and speak the truth, if she knew the truth would hang him? He was sure that the jury, as men who knew the world thoroughly, would not hesitate between the evidence of Hill and that of Fanning.

The case for the defence depended to a great extent on the plan of Riversbrook which Hill candidly admitted he had drawn. His learned friend had called evidence to show that the paper on which the plan was drawn was of a quality which was not procurable by the general public.

That might be so, but what his learned friend had not succeeded in doing, and could not possibly have hoped to succeed in doing, was to show that Birchill could not have obtained possession in any other way of paper of that kind. Yet it was necessary for the defence to prove that, in order to prove that the plan was not drawn at Fanning's flat by Hill under threats from Birchill, but that Hill had drawn it at Riversbrook, and that he gave it to Birchill in order to induce him to consent to the proposal to break into the house. There were dozens of ways in which paper of this particular quality might have got to the flat. Might not Birchill have a friend in His Majesty's Stationery Office? Was it impossible that the witness Fanning had a friend in that Office, or in one of the Government Departments to which the paper was supplied? Was it impossible in view of her relations with the victim of this crime for Fanning to have obtained some of the paper at Riversbrook and to have taken it home to her flat? She had sworn in the witness-box that she had not had paper of that kind in her possession, but with her lover's life at stake was she likely to stick at a lie if it would help to get him off?

Counsel for the defence had endeavoured to make much of the fact that the dead body of Sir Horace Fewbanks was fully dressed when the police discovered it. He endeavoured to persuade them that such a fact established the complete innocence of the prisoner and that because of it they must bring in a verdict of "not guilty." He asked them to accept it as evidence not only that Sir Horace Fewbanks was dead when the prisoner broke into the house, but that he was dead when Hill left Riversbrook at 7.30 p. m. to meet Birchill at Fanning's flat. With an ingenuity which did credit to his imagination, he put before them as his theory of the crime that a quarrel took place between Sir Horace Fewbanks and Hill at Riversbrook, that Hill shot his master and then went to Fanning's flat so as to see that Birchill carried out the burglary as arranged, and at the same time found Sir Horace's dead body, and thus directed suspicion to himself. The only support for this, far-fetched theory was that the body when discovered by the police was fully dressed, and that none of the electric lights were burning. Counsel for the defence contended that these two facts established his theory that the murder was committed before dusk. They established nothing of the kind. There were half a dozen more credible explanations of these things than the one he asked the jury to accept. What mystery was there in a man being fully dressed in his own house at midnight? The defence had been at great pains to show that Sir Horace Fewbanks was a man of somewhat irregular habits in his private life. Did not that suggest that he might have turned off the lights and gone to sleep in an arm-chair in the library with the intention of going out in an hour or two to keep an appointment? If he had an appointment--and his sudden and unexpected return from Scotland would suggest that he had a secret and important appointment--he would be more likely to take a short nap in his chair than to undress and go to bed. Might not the prisoner, who was a bold and reckless man, have broken into the house when the lights were burning and his victim was awake and fully dressed? In that case what was to prevent his turning off the lights before leaving the house instead of leaving them burning to attract attention? What was to prevent the prisoner turning off the lights in order to convey the impression that the crime had been committed in daylight?

"I want you to keep in mind, when arriving at your verdict, that there are certain material facts which have been admitted by the defence," said Mr. Walters in concluding his address to the jury. "It has been admitted that the prisoner was a party to a proposal to break into Riversbrook. As far as that goes, there is no suggestion that he walked into a trap.

Whether he arranged the burglary and compelled Hill to help him, or whether Hill arranged it and sought out the prisoner's a.s.sistance is, after all, not very material. What is admitted is that the prisoner went to Riversbrook with the intention of committing a crime. It is admitted that he knew Sir Horace Fewbanks had returned home. In that case is it not reasonable to suppose that the prisoner would arm himself, I do not say with the definite intention of committing murder, but for the purpose of threatening Sir Horace if necessary in order to make good his escape?

What is more likely than that Sir Horace heard the burglar in the house, crept upon him, and then tried to capture him? There was a struggle, and the prisoner, determined to free himself, drew his revolver and shot Sir Horace. Is not such a theory of the crime--that Sir Horace was shot while trying to capture the prisoner--more probable than the theory of the defence that Hill, the weak-willed, frightened-looking man you saw in the witness-box, was a masterful, cunning criminal who for some inexplicable reason had turned ferociously on the master who had befriended him and given him a fresh start in life, had killed him and left the body in the house, and had then managed to direct suspicion to the prisoner? The theory of the defence does great credit to my learned friend's imagination, but it is one which I am sure the jury will reject as too highly coloured. Looking at the plain facts of the case and dismissing from your minds the attempt to make them fit into a purely imaginative theory, I am sure that you will come to the conclusion that Sir Horace Fewbanks met his death at the hands of the prisoner."

The junior bar agreed that the case was one which might go either way. If they had possessed any money the betting market would have shown scarcely a shade of odds. Everything depended on the way the jury looked at the case, on the particular bits of evidence to which they attached most weight, on the view the most argumentative positive-minded members of the jury adopted, for they would be able to carry the others with them. In the opinion of the junior bar the summing up of Mr. Justice Hodson would not help the jury very much in arriving at a verdict. There were some judges who summed up for or against a prisoner according to the view they had formed as to the prisoner's guilt or innocence. There were other judges who summed up so impartially and gave such even-balanced weight to the points against the prisoner and to the points in his favour, as to make on the minds of the jurymen the impression that the only way to arrive at a well-considered verdict was to toss a coin. Another type of judge conveyed to the jury that the prosecution had established an unanswerable case, but the defence had shown equal skill in shattering it, and therefore he did not know on which side to make up his mind, and fortunately English legal procedure did not render it necessary for him to do so. The prisoner might be guilty and he might be innocent. Some of the jury might think one thing and the rest of the jury might think another. But it was the duty of the jury to come to an unanimous verdict.

It did not matter if they looked at some things in different ways, but their final decision must be the same.

Mr. Justice Hodson belonged to the impartial, impersonal type of judge.

He had no personal feelings or conviction as to the guilt or innocence of the prisoner. It was for the jury to settle that point and it was his duty to a.s.sist them to the best of his ability. He went over his notes carefully and dealt with the evidence of each of the witnesses. It was for the jury to say what evidence they believed and what they disbelieved. There was a p.r.o.nounced conflict of evidence between Hill and Fanning. They were the chief witnesses in the case, but the guilt or innocence of the prisoner did not rest entirely upon the evidence of either of these witnesses. Hill might be speaking the truth and the prisoner might be innocent though the presumption would be, if Hill's evidence were truthful in every detail, that the prisoner was guilty.

Fanning's evidence might be true as far as it went, but it would not in itself prove that the prisoner was innocent. Hill had admitted that he had drawn the plan of Riversbrook to a.s.sist Birchill to commit burglary.

It was for the jury to determine for themselves whether he had been terrorised into drawing the plan for Birchill or whether he was the instigator of the burglary.

The defence had contended that Hill had drawn the plan at his leisure at a time when he had access to a special quality of paper supplied to his master. If that were so, Hill's version of how he came to draw the plan was deliberately false and had been concocted for the purpose of exculpating himself. But they would not be justified in dismissing Hill's evidence entirely from their minds because they were satisfied he had perjured himself with regard to the plan. They would be justified, however, in viewing the rest of his evidence with some degree of distrust. Counsel for the defence had made an ingenious use of the facts that the body of the victim was fully dressed when discovered and that none of the electric lights in the house were burning. These facts lent support to the idea that the murder was committed in daylight, but they by no means established the theory as una.s.sailable. They did not establish the innocence of the prisoner, although to some extent they told in his favour. Counsel for the prosecution had put before them several theories to account for these two facts consistent with his contention that the murder had been committed by the prisoner. The jury must give full consideration to these theories as well as to the theory of the defence. They were not called upon to say which theory was true except in so far as their opinions might be implied in the verdict they gave.

The defence, continued His Honour, was that Hill had committed the murder and had then decided to direct suspicion to the prisoner. If the jury acquitted the prisoner, their verdict would not necessarily mean that they endorsed the theory of the defence. It might mean that, but it might mean only that they were not satisfied that the prisoner had committed the murder. If the jury were convinced beyond all reasonable doubt that the prisoner had committed the murder, they must bring in a verdict of "guilty," and if they were not satisfied they must bring in a verdict of acquittal.

The jury filed out of their apartment, and as they retired to consider their verdict the judge retired to his own room. The prisoner was removed from the dock and taken down the stairs out of sight. There was an immediate hum of voices in the court. Inspector Chippenfield approached the table and whispered to Mr. Walters. The latter nodded affirmatively and left the court room in company with Mr. Holymead. The sibilant sound of whispering voices died down after a few minutes and then began the long tedious wait for the return of the jury.

The occupants of the gallery, who had no difficulty in coming to an immediate decision on the guilt or innocence of the prisoner, could not understand what was keeping the jury away so long. They failed to understand the jury's point of view. These gentlemen had sat in court for three days listening intently to proceedings concerning a matter in which their degree of personal interest was only a form of curiosity. And now the end of the case had been reached, except for the climax, which was in their control. To arrive at an immediate decision in a case that had occupied the court for three days would indicate they had no proper realisation of the responsibilities of their position. A verdict was a thing that had to be nicely balanced in relation to the evidence. Where the case against the prisoner was weak or overwhelmingly strong, the jury might arrive at a verdict with great speed as an indication that too much of their valuable time had already been wasted on the case. But where the evidence for and against the prisoner was fairly equal it behoved the jury to indicate by the time they took in arriving at their verdict that they had given the case the most careful consideration.

Two hours and twenty minutes after the jury had retired, the prisoner was brought back into the dock. This was an indication that the jury had arrived at their verdict and were ready to deliver it. The prisoner looked worn and anxious, but he received encouraging smiles from his friends in the gallery. A minute later the judge entered the court and resumed his seat. The jury filed into court and entered the jury-box.

Amid the noise of barristers resuming their seats and court officials gliding about, the judge's a.s.sociate called over the names of the jurymen. The suspense reached its climax as the a.s.sociate put the formal questions to the foreman whether the jury had agreed on their verdict.

"What say you: guilty or not guilty?" asked the a.s.sociate in a hard metallic voice in which there was no trace of interest in the answer.

"Not guilty," replied the foreman.

There was a m.u.f.fled cheer from the gallery, which was suppressed by the stentorian cry of the ushers, "Silence in the court!"

"A pack of d.a.m.ned fools," said the exasperated Inspector Chippenfield.

Rolfe understood that his chief referred to the jury, and he nodded the a.s.sent of a subordinate.

CHAPTER XX

"Hill has bolted!"

Rolfe flung the words at Inspector Chippenfield in a tone which he was unable to divest entirely of satisfaction. "Fancy his being the guilty party after all," he added, with the tone of satisfaction still more evident in his voice. "I often thought that he was our man, and that he was playing with you--I mean with us."

Inspector Chippenfield had betrayed surprise at the news by dropping his pen on the official report he was preparing. But it was in his usual tone of cold official superiority that he replied: