at confounded idiots these imbeciles
are."

But the session was closing. One more witness remained to be called.

"Miss Waldron, will you take the stand?"

With the charming manner of the thoroughbred New York girl Sylvia
circled the room. It was refreshing to see her, refreshing to hear the
way in which she corroborated what Annandale had said.

"But," objected Peacock, "you had just gone from his house; what did
he go to yours for?"

"To restore a string of pearls."

"Did he repeat to you anything that he had said to his wife?"

"Had he attempted to I should have refused to listen."

"Was he drunk?"

"I cannot say. I have never seen anyone in that condition."

"Did he make any threats regarding Loftus?"

"A gentleman does not make threats."

"Miss Waldron, I will thank you to answer me directly. Did he or did
he not?"

"He did not."

"You swear to that?"

"I do."

It was perjury, of course. Yet if a girl may not perjure herself like
a lady for the man she loves things have come to a pretty pass. That
idea apparently struck Peacock.

"Prior to the defendant's marriage you were engaged to him, were you
not?"

"I was."

"Are you engaged to him now?"

Very prettily and gracefully, without embarrassment, rather with
pride, Sylvia answered: "I am."

"That's all," said Peacock. "The State rests." But as he said it he
looked at the jury and sighed, sighed audibly, much as were he adding,
"You may judge the value of her testimony from that."

The resting, however, was but figurative. In a moment the summing up
began, a summing which, at first passionless as algebra, dealt with
technical points.

"Gentlemen," said Peacock turning again to the jury, "the evidence in
this case is of the kind known to you perhaps as circumstantial.
Evidence of this nature can lead and often does lead to a conclusion
more satisfactory than direct evidence can produce. Circumstances
cannot lie any more than facts can. Unless we resort to them it is in
vain that we attempt to detect and to punish crime. Crime shuns the
light of day. It seeks darkness. It courts secrecy. The assassin
moves stealthily. He calls no witness to see him shoot his victim
down. If you wait for an eye-witness you grant impunity to crime. It
is true, and probably you will be so told by counsel for the defense,
that there are cases in which the innocent have been convicted. Yet if
men have been erroneously convicted on circumstantial evidence, s