ourage of his race, though whether his
bearing would have been as confident had Percival Field not been at his
back was a question asked by a good many. He was one of the best-known
figures in society, a general favourite in sporting circles, and
universally looked upon with approval if not admiration wherever he went.
He had the knack of popularity. He came of an old family, and his
rumoured engagement to Lady Violet Calcott had surprised no one. Lord
Culverleigh, her brother, was known to be his intimate friend, and the
rumour had come already to be regarded as an accomplished fact when, like
a thunder-bolt, had come Wentworth's arraignment for forgery.

It had set all London talking. The evidence against him was far-reaching
and overwhelming. After the first shock no one believed him innocent.
The result of the trial was looked upon before its commencement as a
foregone conclusion until it became known that Percival Field, the rising
man of the day, had undertaken his defence, and then like the swing of a
weather cock public opinion veered. If Field defended him, there must be
some very strong point in his favour, men argued. Field was not the sort
to touch anything of a doubtful nature.

The trial lasted for nearly a week. During that time Lady Violet went day
after day to the Court and sat with her veil down all through the burning
hours. People looked at her curiously, questioning if there really had
been any definite understanding between the two. Did she really care for
the man, or was it mere curiosity that drew her? No one knew with any
certainty. She wrapped herself in her reserve like an all-enveloping
garment, and even those who regarded themselves as her nearest friends
knew naught of what she carried in her soul.

All through the trial she sat in utter immobility, sphinx-like,
unapproachable, yet listening with tense attention to all that passed.
Field's handling of the case was a marvel of legal ingenuity. There were
many who were attracted to the trial by that alone. He had made his mark,
and whatever he said carried weight. When he came at last to make his
speech for the defence, men and women listened with bated breath. It was
one of the greatest speeches that the Criminal Court had ever heard.

He flung into it the whole weight of his personality. He grappled like a
giant with the rooted obstacles that strewed his path, flinging them
hither and thither by sheer force of will. His scorching eloquenc