“I was, Sir.”

“Did you ever speak to the prisoner at the bar about it?”

“I think—­yes, I did, Sir, on one occasion,” and here Harry’s voice fluttered and faltered.  No one noticed it, however, except the prisoner; if any neighbor eyes had watched him narrowly—­but they were all fixed upon the witness—­they would have seen his face whiten, and his brow grow damp.  Why should she have laid that stress upon “on one occasion?”

“You told him that the two thousand pounds were in the box in the cupboard in your bedroom?”

“I did, Sir.”

“The fastening of the box was not an ordinary lock, I believe.  It was what is called a letter padlock?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you ever open it?”

“No, Sir.”

A great bell seemed to be suddenly set tolling in Richard’s brain—­it was the knell of all his hopes.

“You had never opened it at that time, eh?” continued Mr. Balais, cheerfully.  “But you learned the secret afterward?”

“I—­yes—­I did.”

“Do you remember the letters that did open it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What were they?”

“B, N, Z.”

“Very good.  We have heard from the counsel for the prosecution that they were so; and that Mr. Trevethick kept a memorandum of them on a piece of paper that fitted into his watch-case.  Did he always carry that watch about with him?”

“Not always.  When he went out to market, and was likely to be late, he sometimes left it at home.”

“In his own room, I suppose, where you or any body else could get at it?”

“I suppose so, Sir.”

“You suppose?  You know he did, do you not?  Did you not open the watch-case yourself, and so discover the means of unlocking the box?”

“No, Sir,” said Harry, faintly; and once more she turned her eyes to Richard.  It was a true and tender glance, one would have said, and accompanied by an attempt at a smile of encouragement.  But if it had been a glance of a gorgon, it could not have had a more appalling effect; it literally seemed to turn him into stone.

[Illustration:  “COME, DID THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN EVER GIVE YOU A KISS?”]

“Recollect yourself, Miss Trevethick,” said Mr. Balais, earnestly; “you are getting confused, I fear.  Now please to give me your attention.  You say that you knew that the letters B, N, Z were those which formed the key of the letter padlock, and yet that you did not open your father’s watch-case.  How, then, did you become possessed of the secret?”

No answer.  Harry caught her breath convulsively, and turned deadly pale.  She could never tell how Mrs. Yorke had endeavored to suborn her.

“Well, well, this is a matter of very little consequence—­though I see my learned friend is making a copious note of it,” said Mr. Balais, gayly.  “The main point is what, as you have told us, did occur—­that you found out the secret somehow.  When you got it, I suppose you opened the box?”