ocate: When you first turned to Mr. Grammont, what did you do?

Witness: I stooped down and took his head in my hands.

Advocate: And what did you see?

Witness: That his head was nearly severed from his body.

Advocate: And what effect had this spectacle upon you?

The Witness returned no answer to the interpreter, and on the question
being repeated: fainted, and was removed from court.

The Judge: Is it necessary to prolong this painful scene?

Advocate: With all submission to the Court--for one moment only. (After
a pause, the Witness returned.) Are you strong enough to go on, Mr.
Clyde?

Witness: I think so.

Advocate: We are then to understand that at this terrible sight the
shock given you in your childhood by the discovery of your brother was
revived?

Witness: Yes.

Advocate: What did you do?

Witness: I am not quite clear, but I remember running from the place.

Advocate: Did you see any living man near there?

Witness: Yes. I ran against a man close by. We fell together.

Advocate: In what condition were your hands?

Witness: They were covered with blood.

The Advocate here asked for the shirt of the prisoner Giovanni Calvotti.
It was produced.

Advocate: You observe upon the breast of that shirt the mark of a hand?

Witness: Yes.

Advocate: Lay your hand upon it, and see if it corresponds in size?

Witness: Exactly.

Advocate: One question more. Was Mr. Grammont dead when you saw him?

Witness: I believe that he was not quite dead. I believe that I saw his
hand move upon his breast.

Advocate: One word more. Could you identify the man against whom you
ran?

Witness: I was too agitated at the time to recognise him.

In this wise the story came out. Ah me! how I accused myself in my heart
for my suspicions. The tears of joy were in my eyes so thickly that I
could scarcely see. I had my friend back again, and my love was saved
this overwhelming horror which had seemed to threaten her.

The Public Accuser rose and cross-examined Arthur Clyde, for form's
sake, I suppose. But the jury professed themselves satisfied with the
evidence before them, and before I quite knew what had happened I was in
a chariot in the street--a chariot with no horses at all, but a thousand
men, to draw it. The story was abroad. The city rang with it. I had
risked my life to save a friend from suspicion, and those who cursed me
in the morning cheered me in the afternoon, until they were too hoarse
to che