“It has established the prisoner’s guilt beyond all reasonable doubt in the minds of men of common sense.  You did not see Sir Horace Fewbanks that night after the prisoner left him.  You could not have seen him even if he had leaned out of the window.  But your whole story is a lie, because Sir Horace was dead when the prisoner left him.”

“He was not,” shouted Kemp.  “I saw him alive.  I saw him as plain as I see you now.”

The man in court who was most fascinated by the witness was Crewe.  He had watched every movement of Kemp’s face, every change in the tone of his voice.

“I wonder what the fool will say next,” whispered Inspector Chippenfield to Crewe.

“He will tell us how Sir Horace Fewbanks was shot,” was Crewe’s reply.

Mr. Walters approached a step nearer to the witness-box.  “You saw him as plainly as you see me now?” he repeated.

“Yes,” declared Kemp, who, it was evident, was labouring under great excitement.  “You say I came here to commit perjury if it would get him off.”  He pointed with a dramatic finger to the man in the dock.  “I did.  And I came here to get him off by telling the truth if perjury didn’t do it.  You say I’ve helped to put the rope round his neck.  But I’m man enough to tell the truth.  I’ll get him off even if I have to swing for it myself.”

This outburst from the witness-box created a sensation in court.  Many of the spectators stood up in order to get a better view of the witness, and some of the ladies even jumped on their seats.  Mr. Justice Hodson was momentarily taken aback.  His first instinct was to check the witness and to ask him to be calm, but the witness took no notice of him.  He displayed his judicial authority by an impressive descent of an uplifted hand which compelled the unruly spectators to resume their seats.

It was on Mr. Walters that Kemp concentrated his attention.  It was Mr. Walters whom he set himself to convince as if he were the man who could set the prisoner free.  Of the rest of the people in court Kemp in his excitement had become oblivious.

“Listen to me,” said Kemp, “and I’ll tell you who shot this scoundrel.  He was a scoundrel, I say, and he ought to have been in gaol himself instead of sending other people there.  I went up to the house that night to see if everything was clear, or whether that cur Hill had laid a trap—­that part of my evidence is true.  And from behind a tree in the plantation I saw Mr. Holymead pass me—­he struck a match to look at the time, and I saw his face distinctly.  A few minutes afterwards I heard loud, angry voices coming from somewhere upstairs in the house.  I thought the best thing I could do was to find out what it was about.  I said to myself that Mr. Holymead might want help.  I walked across the garden and found that the hall door was wide open.  I went inside and crept upstairs to the library.  The light in the hall was turned on, as well as a little lamp on the turn of the staircase behind a marble figure holding some curtains, which led the way to the library.  The library door was open an inch or two, and I listened.