ir deliberate opinion on the innocence or guilt of the
accused.

Nothing could be more fair than his observations--or so it appeared to
the majority of Campion's hearers. No doubt he had referred to the
affair at Aix-les-Bains as though it were a matter of evidence, instead
of mere allegation, and to the recent quarrels in England as though the
"faults on both sides" had been clearly established. But he was supposed
to be speaking in strict accordance with his instructions, and, of
course, it was open to the defence to question anything which he had
said.

Then came the evidence for the prosecution, the substance of which is
already known to the reader; but Cora's account of the quarrel in Surrey
Street was so ingeniously colored and distorted that Alan found himself
listening with something like genuine amusement to the questions of
counsel and the replies of his lying wife.

"And so," said Mr. Campion, after she had spoken of her earnest appeal
for the renewal of friendship, and of her husband's insulting refusal,
"you came to high words. Did you both keep the same positions whilst you
were talking?"

"For a long time, until I lost patience, and then--yes, let me speak the
whole truth--I threw a certain book at him."

Cora was on the point of saying why she threw the book, and whose name
was on the title-page, but she checked herself in time. It had been very
difficult to persuade her that her interests were safe in the hands of
Lettice's brother, and even now she had occasional misgivings on that
point. Sydney went on quickly.

"A book lying close to your hand, you mean?"

"She said a certain book," Mr. Milton interjected.

"You must make allowance for her," said the judge. "You know she is
French, and you should follow her in two languages at once. No doubt she
meant 'some book or other.' The point has no importance."

"And then," said Sydney, "you altered your positions?"

"We stood facing each other."

"What happened next?"

"Suddenly--I had not moved--an evil look came in his face. He sprang to
the table, and took from the drawer a long, sharp poignard. I remembered
it well, for he had it when we were married."

"What did he do then?"

"He raised it in his hand; but I had leaped upon him, and then began a
terrible struggle."

The court was excited. Alan and his counsel were almost the only persons
who remained perfectly cool.

"It was an unequal struggle?"

"Ah, yes! I became exhausted, and