hen came the evidence of Arthur Chipps, John Ashley's valet. It proved
of a very sensational character.

"He deposed that on the night in question his master came home at about
ten minutes to two. Chipps had then not yet gone to bed. Five minutes
later Mr. Ashley went out again, telling the valet not to sit up for
him. Chipps could not say at what time either of the young gentlemen had
come home.

"That short visit home--presumably to fetch the revolver--was thought to
be very important, and Mr. John Ashley's friends felt that his case was
practically hopeless.

"The valet's evidence and that of James Funnell, the constable, who had
overheard the conversation near the park railings, were certainly the
two most damning proofs against the accused. I assure you I was having a
rare old time that day. There were two faces in court to watch which was
the greatest treat I had had for many a day. One of these was Mr. John
Ashley's.

"Here's his photo--short, dark, dapper, a little 'racy' in style, but
otherwise he looks a son of a well-to-do farmer. He was very quiet and
placid in court, and addressed a few words now and again to his
solicitor. He listened gravely, and with an occasional shrug of the
shoulders, to the recital of the crime, such as the police had
reconstructed it, before an excited and horrified audience.

"Mr. John Ashley, driven to madness and frenzy by terrible financial
difficulties, had first of all gone home in search of a weapon, then
waylaid Mr. Aaron Cohen somewhere on that gentleman's way home. The
young man had begged for delay. Mr. Cohen perhaps was obdurate; but
Ashley followed him with his importunities almost to his door.

"There, seeing his creditor determined at last to cut short the painful
interview, he had seized the unfortunate man at an unguarded moment from
behind, and strangled him; then, fearing that his dastardly work was not
fully accomplished, he had shot twice at the already dead body, missing
it both times from sheer nervous excitement. The murderer then must have
emptied his victim's pockets, and, finding the key of the garden,
thought that it would be a safe way of evading capture by cutting across
the squares, under the tunnel, and so through the more distant gate
which faced Portland Place.

"The loss of the revolver was one of those unforeseen accidents which a
retributive Providence places in the path of the miscreant, delivering
him by his own act of folly into the ha