no more of it. If you come hanging about
here again on your own account, you'll find yourself in the dock beside
Birchill. Hand me over the duplicate key of the door by which you came
in, and also the key of the desk which you had still less right to have
in your possession. Say nothing to anyone about those papers until I
give you permission to do so."

CHAPTER XVI

The day fixed for the trial of Frederick Birchill was wet, dismal, and
dreary. The rain pelted intermittently through a hazy, chilly atmosphere,
filling the gutters and splashing heavily on the slippery pavements. But
in spite of the rain a long queue, principally of women, assembled
outside the portals of the Old Bailey long before the time fixed for the
opening of the court. At the private entrance to the courthouse arrived
fashionably-dressed ladies accompanied by well-groomed men. They had
received cards of admission and had seats reserved for them in the body
of the court. Many of them had personally known the late Sir Horace
Fewbanks, and their interest in the trial of the man accused of his
murder was intensified by the rumours afloat that there were to be some
spicy revelations concerning the dead judge's private life.

The arrival of Mr. Justice Hodson, who was to preside at the trial,
caused a stir among some of the spectators, many of whom belonged to the
criminal class. Sir Henry Hodson had presided at so many murder trials
that he was known among them as "the Hanging Judge." Among the spectators
were some whom Sir Henry had put into mourning at one time or another;
there were others whom he had deprived of their bread-winners for
specified periods. These spectators looked at him with curiosity, fear,
and hatred. Mr. Holymead, K.C., drove up in a taxi-cab a few minutes
later, and his arrival created an impression akin to admiration. In the
eyes of the criminal class he was an heroic figure who had assumed the
responsibility of saving the life of one of their fraternity. The eminent
counsel's success in the few criminal cases in which he had consented to
appear had gained him the respectful esteem of those who considered
themselves oppressed by the law, and the spectators on the pavement might
have raised a cheer for him if their exuberance had not been restrained
by the proximity of the policeman guarding the entrance.

When the court was opened Inspector Chippenfield took a seat in the body
of the court behind the barrister's bench.