There was one independent witness for the defence, in addition to the experts in photography and chains.  The landlady of the house at which Rachel called, in the early morning, on her way home with the cab, was about five minutes in the witness-box, but in those five minutes she supplied the defence with one of its strongest arguments.  It was at least conceivable that a woman who had killed her husband might coolly proceed to pack her trunk, and thereafter fetch the cab which was to remove herself and her effects from the scene of the tragedy.  But was it credible that a woman of so much presence of mind, to whom every minute might make the difference between life and death, would, having found her cab, actually drive out of her way to inquire after a sick friend, or even a dying lover, before going home to pick up her luggage and to ascertain whether her crime was still undetected?  Suppose it were a lover, and inquire one must:  would one not still leave those inquiries to the last?  And having made them, last or first; and knowing the grim necessity of flight; would one woman go out of her way to tell another that she “had to go abroad very suddenly, and was going for good?”

“Inconceivable!” cried the prisoner’s counsel, dealing with the point; and the word was much upon his lips during the course of a long and very strenuous speech, in which the case for the Crown was flouted from beginning to end, without, perhaps, enough of concentration on its more obvious weaknesses, or of respect for its undoubted strength.  For the prisoner’s proceedings on the night of the murder, however, supposing she had committed it, and still more on the morning after, it would have been difficult to find a better epithet; the only drawback was that this one had seen service in the cause of almost every murderer who ever went to the gallows—­as counsel for the prosecution remarked in his reply, with deadly deference to his learned friend.

“On the other hand,” he went on, wagging his eyeglasses with leisurely deliberation, and picking his words with a care that enhanced their effect, after the unbridled rhetoric of the defence—­“on the other hand, gentlemen, if criminals never made mistakes, inconceivable or not as we may choose to consider them—­if they never made those mistakes, they would never stand in that dock.”

It was late on the Saturday afternoon when the judge summed up; but a pleasant surprise was in store for those who felt that his lordship must speak at greater length than either of the counsel between whom he was to hold the scales.  The address from the bench was much the shortest of the three.  Less exhaustive than the conventional review of a complicated case, it was a disquisition of conspicuous clearness and impartiality.  Only the salient points were laid before the jury, for the last time, and in a nutshell, but with hardly a hint of the judge’s own opinion upon any one of them.  The expression of that opinion