d found the stick
inside the railings of Green Park and had taken it straight away to
his chiefs at Scotland Yard before the stains on it had been further
disturbed; and there was finally Doctor Blair, the district medical
officer, also recalled, who examined the dagger which fitted into that
snake-wood stick.

He had been shown it yesterday it seems and found how accurately it
fitted the wound in the murdered man's throat. To this he swore now in
open court, for the _coup de theatre_, the production of the
dagger-stick, had been kept back until now, in order that it should
work its fullest and most dramatic effect.

Colonel Harris, sitting near his daughter, would have given worlds to
know what she thought. He himself did not know what to think. His
simple, unsophisticated mind was in a maze. The question of Luke's
possible guilt had suddenly loomed up before him, dissipating the
former blind impulse of partisanship and loyalty. Mr. Dobson too
looked puzzled, the old family solicitor who had seen Luke and his
brothers and sister grow up, who a few hours, nay minutes, ago would
have sworn to his client's innocence before the entire world, he too
now was face to face with a hideous feeling of doubt.

Not one other person in the room either, believe me, who was not
convinced of Luke's guilt. Louisa knew that well enough as her aching
eyes wandered over the sea of faces, meeting hollow compassion, morbid
curiosity, at best a certain sympathetic horror, in the glances round.
She knew that every one here, the officials, the jury, the police, the
public, believed that Luke struck his cousin in the dark; she knew
that Mr. Dobson had begun to doubt; and that her father had begun to
fear.

And she, with all the fervour of unconquered Love, prayed in her heart
that she might understand. She prayed to Love to open the eyes of her
mind, for it was her reason which did not understand, which yearned to
understand.

Her heart cared nothing, cared for nothing except for the man she
loved and the bitter, bitter sorrow which he endured alone, shut away
from all, even from her.

There was general stir in the court room, the coroner had risen, also
the jury. The journalists were holding agitated parlance with the boy
messengers. Louisa--like one who had received a sharp blow on the
head--wondered what all this stir meant.

Was it all over? Had Luke irretrievably lost himself in that secret
orchard of his, into which he was obviou