ut to an earnest mind it was a story that carried
conviction because of its simple straightforwardness--its crudity, if
the jury liked to call it that. It lacked the subtlety and the finish
of a concocted story. The murder took place before Birchill reached
Riversbrook on his burglarious errand.

"It is my place," added Mr. Holymead, in concluding his address, "to
convince you that my client is not guilty, or, in other words, to
convince you that the murder was committed before he reached the house.
It is only with the greatest reluctance that I take upon myself the
responsibility of pointing an accusing finger at another man. In crimes
of this kind you cannot expect to get anything but circumstantial
evidence. But there are degrees of circumstantial evidence, and my duty
to my client lays upon me the obligation of pointing out to you that
there is one person against whom the existing circumstantial evidence is
stronger than it is against my client."

Crewe, who had secured his former place in the gallery of the court,
looked down on the speaker. He had carefully followed every word of
Holymead's address, but the concluding portion almost electrified him. He
flattered himself that he was the only person in court who understood the
full significance of the sonorous sentences with which the famous K.C.
concluded his address to the jury.

As his eyes wandered over the body of the court below, Crewe saw that
Mrs. Holymead and Mademoiselle Chiron were sitting in one of the back
seats, but that they were not accompanied by Miss Fewbanks. It was
evident to him by the way in which Mrs. Holymead followed the proceedings
that her interest in the case was something far deeper than wifely
interest in her husband's connection with it as counsel for the defence.
Leaning forward in her seat, with her hands clasped in her lap, she
listened eagerly to every word. During the day his gaze went back to her
at intervals, and on several occasions he became aware that she had been
watching him while he watched her husband.

The first witness for the defence was Doris Fanning. The drift of her
evidence was to exonerate the prisoner at the expense of Hill. She
declared that she had not gone to Riversbrook to see Hill after the final
quarrel with Sir Horace. Hill had come to her flat in Westminster of his
own accord and had asked for Birchill. She went out of the room while
they discussed their business, but after Hill had gone Birchill told