A murmur went up round the crowded court room.  The judge nodded.  He needed no introduction to Cleek.

“The gentlemen of the jury will be seated,” declared the court, “the clerk will call Hamilton Cleek as a witness.”

This formality accomplished, the judge indicated that he, himself, would question this crucial eleventh-hour witness.

“Mr. Cleek,” he began, “you say this man is innocent.  We will hear your story.”

Cleek motioned to Dollops, who stood at the back of the court, and instantly the lad pushed his way through the crowd to his master’s side, carrying the long, ungainly burden in his arms.  Meanwhile, at the back of the room a commotion had occurred.  The magic name of that most magical of men—­Hamilton Cleek, detective—­had wrought what Cleek had known it would.  Someone was pushing for the door with all the strength that was in him, but already the key had turned, and Hammond, as guardian, held up his hand.

Cleek knew—­but for the time said nothing—­and the crowd had hidden whoever it was from the common view.  He simply motioned Dollops to lay his burden upon the table, and then spoke once more.

“M’ Lud,” he said clearly, “may I ask a favour of the court?  I should be obliged if you would call every witness in this matter here—­simultaneously.  Set them out in a row, if you will, but call them now....  Thanks.”

The judge motioned to the clerk, and through the hushed silence of the court the dull voice droned out:  “Anthony West, William Borkins, Lester Stark, Gustave Brellier, Miss Antoinette Brellier, Doctor Bartholomew....”  And so on through the whole list.  As each name was called the owner of it came forward and stood in front of the judge’s high desk.

“A most unusual proceeding, sir,” said that worthy, again settling the spectacles upon his nose and frowning down at Cleek; “but, knowing who you are—­”

“I appreciate you Lordship’s kindness.  Now then, all there?” Cleek whirled suddenly, and surveyed the strange line.  “That’s good.  And at least every one of them is here.  No chance of slipping away now.  Now for it.”

He turned back to the table with something of suppressed eagerness in his movements, and a low murmur of excitement went up round the crowded courtroom.  Rapidly he tore off the wrappings from the long, snake-like bundle, and held one of the objects up to view.

“Allow me to draw your attention to this,” he said, in a loud, clear voice, every note of which carried to the back of the long room.  “This, as you possibly know, sir, is a piece of electric tubing made for the express purpose of conveying safely delicate electric wirings that are used for installations, so that they may not be damaged in transit from the factory to—­the agent who sells them.  You would like to see the wirings, I know—­” For answer he whipped open the joints of one of the tubes, set it upon end, and—­from inside the narrow casing came a perfect shower of golden sovereigns clattering to the floor and across the table in front of the astonished clerk’s eyes.