He had been quite convinced of Caldigate’s guilt,—­not only by the direct evidence, but by the concurrent circumstances.  To his thinking, it was not in human nature that a man should pay such a sum as twenty thousand pounds to such people as Crinkett and Euphemia Smith,—­a sum of money which was not due either legally or morally,—­except with an improper object.  I have said that he was a great man; but he did not rise to any appreciation of the motives which had unquestionably operated with Caldigate.  Had Caldigate been quite assured, when he paid the money, that his enemies would remain and bear witness against him, still he would have paid it.  In that matter he had endeavoured to act as he would have acted had the circumstances of the mining transaction been made known to him when no threat was hanging over his head.  But all that Judge Bramber did not understand.  He understood, however, quite clearly, that under no circumstances should money have been paid by an accused person to witnesses while that person’s guilt and innocence were in question.  In his summing-up he had simply told the jury to consider the matter;—­but he had so spoken the word as to make the jury fully perceive what had been the result of his own consideration.

And then Caldigate and the woman had lived together, and a distinct and repeated promise of marriage had been acknowledged.  It was acknowledged that the man had given his name to the woman, so far as himself to write it.  Whatever might be the facts as to the postmark and postage-stamp, the words ‘Mrs. Caldigate’ had been written by the man now in prison.

Four persons had given direct evidence; and in opposition to them there had been nothing.  Till Dick Shand had come, no voice had been brought forward to throw even a doubt upon the marriage.  That two false witnesses should adhere well together in a story was uncommon; that three should do so, most rare; with four it would be almost a miracle.  But these four had adhered.  They were people, probably of bad character,—­whose lives had perhaps been lawless.  But if so, it would have been so much easier to prove them false if they were false.  Thus Judge Bramber, when he passed sentence on Caldigate had not in the least doubted that the verdict was a true verdict.

And now the case was sent to him for reconsideration.  He hated such reconsiderations.  He first read Sir John Joram’s letter, and declared to himself that it was unfit to have come from any one calling himself a lawyer.  There was an enthusiasm about it altogether beneath a great advocate,—­certainly beneath any forensic advocate employed otherwise than in addressing a jury.  He, Judge Bramber, had never himself talked of ‘demanding’ a verdict even from a jury.  He had only endeavoured to win it.  But that a man who had been Attorney-General,—­who had been the head of the bar,—­should thus write to a Secretary of State, was to him disgusting.  To his thinking, a great lawyer, even a good lawyer,