'This would evidently be much easier for a young woman like the prisoner to do than to carry it downstairs.

'Her second journey down, when she appears to have been bearing a load of some kind, may be accounted for by supposing that she returned for the jewels. These, as already stated, have disappeared.

'During deceased's lifetime she maintained great secrecy about these jewels. No one, not even the servants who had been with her longest, seems to have known anything as to their whereabouts.

'It is suggested, therefore, that they were kept by deceased in a secret hiding-place. This secret must have been disclosed to prisoner, or found out by her.

'Probably, had deceased's nephew been home longer, he would have learnt something about the matter.

'Counsel will doubtless have noticed the coincidence of the crime being committed on the very night of Mr. Lewis's return. Probably this was to antic.i.p.ate any communications between aunt and nephew which might have resulted in his obtaining access to the treasure h.o.a.rd.'

('Coincidence, indeed! Some people might think it a d---- suspicious circ.u.mstance,' said the reader. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he added: 'Of course, she's guilty, and it's my duty to get a conviction; but, upon my word, I never had a job to do that I liked less. It's all Pollard's fault for writing up the brief so desperately. He and his Lewis!')

'Sergeant Evans now proceeded to arrest the prisoner. When he charged her with the crime she turned pale, and cried out that it was impossible. But she shed no tears, and showed but little emotion after the first surprise.'

('Pooh! What difference does that make? This sort of thing simply depends on the person's character, not on whether he is guilty or not.' And the blue pencil did some more scoring out.)

'The only remaining circ.u.mstance of the case is the disposal of the body.

'In the afternoon of the same day, the second of June, a visitor staying in Porthstone, named Wilfrid Meredith, was walking out to Newton Bay. Just as he rounded the corner and came into the bay he discovered on the edge of the waves a human hand.

'Although somewhat bruised and discoloured, this hand has been identified as the deceased's by her nephew and the servants.

'On the fingers were several valuable rings, which deceased constantly wore. About the ident.i.ty, therefore, there can be no reasonable doubt.

'No other portion of the body has yet been found. For this reason the Treasury have declined to take up the case, which is in the nature of a private prosecution on the part of Mr. Lewis.

_'Call John Lewis.'_

At this point Mr. Prescott laid down his brief and leant back in his chair. The remainder of the doc.u.ment consisted of the proofs or statements of the evidence which each witness was prepared to give.

Much of it would, of course, be merely a repet.i.tion of the narrative contained in the first part. It could therefore be looked at some other time.

He laid down his brief and began to think over its contents. It was a case of circ.u.mstantial evidence, evidence which all seemed to point one way, and to fix a horrible crime upon a young girl whom he remembered as a pretty child.

Though not a native of Mynyddshire, Charles Prescott was familiar with the district. He had, in fact, been educated at a grammar school in the next county, and it was while he was there that he had made the acquaintance of the Owens.

His favourite schoolfellow, a boy a few years younger than himself, came from the little watering-place, and a summer seldom pa.s.sed without Prescott spending some part of his holiday at his friend's home. There it was that he had seen old Owen, the parish rector, and had caught a few pa.s.sing glimpses of the little Eleanor.

Hence his interest in the present case, and the unusual feeling of reluctance with which he approached his task. He had not been to Porthstone for five years now. The schoolfellows were still friendly--in fact, they saw a good deal of each other still, having taken up the same profession and joined the same circuit. But Prescott had got on much better than his friend. He had had five years' start to begin with, and his was that firm, persevering temperament which ensures success to the lawyer. He had therefore risen steadily, and was already making an income of twelve or fifteen hundred a year, while his younger and erratic friend had but gained a precarious foothold in the profession by dint of a few brilliant speeches, which covered a very superficial acquaintance with the law.

'I wonder who will have the defence!' meditated Prescott. 'It will surely run to something more than a docker!'

A docker, it should be explained, is the name for a retainer which is handed direct from a prisoner in the dock to a counsel, without the intervention of a solicitor. It is the resource of the poorer cla.s.s of offenders, who can sc.r.a.pe together that single guinea, but no more.

'I have it. I'll go and see Tressamer about this. He goes there still, and ought to know all about it.'

Tressamer was the name of his old friend. His chambers were in an adjoining court of the Temple. Prescott put on his hat, told his clerk where he was to be found, and strolled forth.

CHAPTER III.

COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENCE.

'Mr. Tressamer is inside, sir. Will you walk in?'

Thus said the clerk at Mr. Tressamer's chambers as soon as he saw Mr.

Prescott. Then, stepping to the door, he rapped and opened it, saying the visitor's name.

'Well, Tressamer, where have you been this age?'

The speaker stopped, startled at the sight that presented itself, for there, lying on his face on the hearthrug, with his hands clutching at his thick black curls, lay George Tressamer, the very picture of one in mortal despair.

He sprang to his feet as his friend entered, and made an awkward attempt to behave as if he had not been seen.

'Why, Prescott, where do you come from, pray? More excursions to the County Court, with the solicitors on opposite sides racing to you to see which can get his brief into your hands first?'

Prescott thought it best to take the hint, and not remark on his friend's trouble. He quietly answered:

'No; I've not been anywhere. Been in town, preparing for the a.s.sizes.

By-the-bye----' He paused to look for a chair, and was surprised to find every one in the room littered with books. He proceeded to clear the nearest to him, lifting the books on to the floor. 'I've just had a brief to prosecute--Hullo! "Hawkins' Pleas of the Crown"! I had no idea you were such a student--in that Porthstone case--the murder----'

Again he stopped short. A look of anguish had come into his friend's face.

'What is it, old man? I can see something's gone wrong.'

'Charlie,' was the reply, spoken in a tone hardly above a whisper, 'are you prosecuting Eleanor Owen?'

Prescott nodded.

'And have you read your brief?'

'I've just come from it.'

'Then you can understand how I feel. I am defending her--and I love her!'

He threw all the energy of his pa.s.sionate nature into the last sentence, and then sank down upon the window seat and hid his face with his hands.

For several minutes neither spoke. Prescott hardly knew what course to take. To offer to resign his brief might be to let it pa.s.s into the hands of one who would share Mr. Pollard's prejudice against the accused. On the other hand, to retain it, unless he were prepared to bring the case fully home to the prisoner, would be alike a breach of professional honour and an act of dishonesty. He resolved at last to leave the choice to his friend.

'George,' he said.

The other slowly lifted his head. Looking upon that face, his friend could see the marks of the terrible experience he was pa.s.sing through.

Tressamer had always been a youth of wild and stormy emotions; no man less calm and steadfast than Prescott could have maintained a friendship so long with such a nature. But now he was struggling with pa.s.sions compared with which the emotions of schoolboys were as nothing.

'George, what shall I do? I want you to decide. You know me too well to think I care about the little benefit to myself when it's a case of life and death with a friend like you. Shall I chuck up the case?'