was the murderer of his lifelong friend?  Would he have trusted himself to do his best?  No, Holymead knew that Birchill was innocent; he knew who the guilty man was, and, knowing that, knowing that his action in defending the man charged with the murder of an old friend would weigh with the jury, he took up the case because he felt there was a moral obligation on him to get Birchill off.  His conduct of the defence, during which he attacked the moral character of your father, was remarkable, coming from him—­the friend of the dead man.  As the action of defending counsel it was perfectly legitimate.  It gave rise to some discussion in purely legal circles—­whether Holymead did right or wrong in violating a long friendship in order to get his man off.  The academic point is whether he ought to have violated his personal feelings for an old friend, or violated his duty to his client by doing something less than his best for him.

“Apart from the circumstantial and inferential evidence against Holymead, there is the fact that his wife knows that he committed the crime.  Her acts point to that; her conduct throughout springs from the desire to shield him.  Even the removal of the letters from the secret drawer was prompted more by the desire to save him than to save herself.  Their discovery would not have been very serious for her, but it would have put the police on her husband’s track.  If I remember rightly, she asked you to keep her in touch with all the developments of the investigations of the police and myself.  You told me that she was greatly interested in the fact that I did not believe Birchill was guilty, and particularly anxious to know if I suspected anyone.  At Birchill’s trial she did me the honour of watching me very closely.  I was watching both her and her husband.  When she discovered through her womanly intuition that I suspected her husband; that I was accumulating evidence against him; she sent round her friend, Mademoiselle Chiron, with some interesting information for me.  An extremely clever young woman that—­like all her countrywomen she is wonderfully sharp and quick, with a natural aptitude for intrigue.  Of course, the information she gave me was intended to mislead me—­intended to show me that Mr. Holymead had nothing to do with the crime.  But some of it was extremely interesting when it dealt with actual facts, and some of the facts were quite new to me.  For instance, I had not previously known that a piece of a lady’s handkerchief was found clenched in your father’s right hand after he was dead.  The police very kindly kept that information from me.  Had they told me about it I might have been inclined to suspect Mrs. Holymead and to believe that her husband was trying to shield her.  His conduct would bear that interpretation if she had happened to be guilty.  The police unconsciously saved me from taking up that false scent.