“You have a similar stick then?”

And Mr. Taynton replied in the affirmative.

The court then rose.

* * * * *

On the whole the day had been most satisfactory to the ghouls and vultures and it seemed probable that they would have equally exciting and plentiful fare next day.  But in the opinion of many Morris’s counsel was disappointing.  He did not cross-examine witnesses at all sensationally, and drag out dreadful secrets (which had nothing to do with the case) about their private lives, in order to show that they seldom if ever spoke the truth.  Indeed, witness after witness was allowed to escape without any cross-examination at all; there was no attempt made to prove that the carpenter who had found the body had been himself tried for murder, or that his children were illegitimate.  Yet gradually, as the afternoon went on, a sort of impression began to make its way, that there was something coming which no one suspected.

The next morning those impressions were realised when the adjourned cross-examination of Mr. Taynton was resumed.  The counsel for the defence made an immediate attack on the theories of the prosecution, and it told.  For the prosecution had suggested that Morris’s presence at the scene of the murder the day after was suspicious, as if he had come back uneasily and of an unquiet conscience.  If that was so, Mr. Taynton’s presence there, who had been the witness who proved the presence of the other, was suspicious also.  What had he come there for?  In order to throw the broken pieces of Morris’s stick into the bushes?  These inferences were of course but suggested in the questions counsel asked Mr. Taynton in the further cross-examination of this morning, and perhaps no one in court saw what the suggestion was for a moment or two, so subtly and covertly was it conveyed.  Then it appeared to strike all minds together, and a subdued rustle went round the court, followed the moment after by an even intenser silence.

Then followed a series of interrogations, which at first seemed wholly irrelevant, for they appeared to bear only on the business relations between the prisoner and the witness.  Then suddenly like the dim light at the end of a tunnel, where shines the pervading illuminating sunlight, a little ray dawned.

“You have had control of the prisoner’s private fortune since 1886?”

“Yes.”

“In the year 1896 he had L8,000 or thereabouts in London and North-Western Debentures, L6,000 in Consols, L7,000 in Government bonds of South Australia?”

“I have no doubt those figures are correct.”

“A fortnight ago you bought L8,000 of London and North-Western Debentures, L6,000 in Consols, L7,000 in Government bonds of South Australia?”

Mr. Taynton opened his lips to speak, but no sound came from them.

“Please answer the question.”

If there had been a dead hush before, succeeding the rustle that had followed the suggestions about the stick, a silence far more palpable now descended.  There was no doubt as to what the suggestion was now.