Mr. Lethbridge was unexpectedly brief in his opening address.  He ridiculed the idea that a man like the prisoner, trained in the atmosphere of the law, would take the law into his own hands in seeking revenge for a wrong that had been done to him.  According to the prosecution the prisoner had calmly and deliberately carried out this murder.  He had sent a letter to Sir Horace Fewbanks with the object of inducing him to return to London, and had subsequently gone to Riversbrook and shot the man who had been his lifelong friend.  Could anything be more improbable than to suppose that a man of the accused’s training, intellect, and force of character, would be swayed by a gust of passion into committing such a dreadful crime like an immature ignorant youth of unbalanced temperament?  The discovery that his wife and his friend were carrying on an intrigue would be more likely to fill him with disgust than inspire him with murderous rage.  He would not deny that accused had gone up to Riversbrook a few hours after Sir Horace Fewbanks returned from Scotland; he would admit that when the accused sought this interview he knew that his quondam friend had done him the greatest wrong one man could do another; but he emphatically denied that the prisoner killed Sir Horace Fewbanks or threatened to take his life.

His learned friend had asked why had not the prisoner gone to the police after the murder was discovered and told them that he had seen Sir Horace at Riversbrook that night.  The answer to that was clear and emphatic.  He did not want to take the police into his confidence with regard to the relations that had existed between his wife and the dead man.  He wanted to save his wife’s name from scandal.  Was not that a natural impulse for a high-minded man?  The prisoner had believed that in due course the police would discover the actual murderer, and that in the meantime the scandal which threatened his wife’s name would be buried with the man who had wronged her.  If the prisoner could have prevented it his wife’s name would not have been dragged into this case even for the purpose of saving himself from injustice.  But the prosecution, in order to establish a motive for the crime, had dragged this scandal into light.  He did not blame the prosecution in the least for that.  In fact he was grateful to his learned friend for doing so, for it had released him from a promise extracted from him by the prisoner not to make any use of the matter in his conduct of the case.  The defence was that, although the accused man had gone to Riversbrook on the night of the 18th of August to accuse Sir Horace Fewbanks of base treachery, he went there unarmed, and with no intention of committing violence.  No threats were used and no shot was fired during the interview.  And in proof of the latter contention he intended to call witnesses to prove that Sir Horace Fewbanks was alive after the prisoner had left the house.

The name of Daniel Kemp was loudly called by the ushers, and when Kemp crossed the court on the way to the witness-box, Chippenfield and Crewe, who had returned to the court after giving their evidence, looked at one another.