On the appointed day and hour, speaking in a very crowded court, counsel for the Crown opened the case against me, demonstrating clearly that in the pursuit of my own miserable ends I had sacrificed the life of a young, high-placed and lovely fellow-creature, and brought bereavement and desolation upon her husband and family.  Then he proceeded to call evidence, which was practically the same as that which had been given before the magistrates, although the husband and Lady Colford’s nurse were examined, and, on my behalf, cross-examined at far greater length.

After the adjournment for lunch Sir John Bell was put into the witness-box, where, with a little additional detail, he repeated almost word for word what he had said before.  Listening to him my heart sank, for he made an excellent witness, quiet, self-contained, and, to all appearance, not a little affected by the necessity under which he found himself of exposing the evil doings of a brother practitioner.  I noticed with dismay also that his evidence produced a deep effect upon the minds of all present, judge and jury not excepted.

Then came the cross-examination, which certainly was a brilliant performance, for under it were shown that from the beginning Sir John Bell had certainly borne me ill-will; that to his great chagrin I had proved myself his superior in a medical controversy, and that the fever which my wife contracted was in all human probability due to his carelessness and want of precautions while in attendance upon her.  When this cross-examination was concluded the court rose for the day, and, being on bail, I escaped from the dock until the following morning.

I returned to my house and went up to the nursery to see the baby, who was a very fine and healthy infant.  At first I could scarcely bear to look at this child, remembering always that indirectly it had been the cause of its dear mother’s death.  But now, when I was so lonely, for even those who called themselves my friends had fallen away from me in the time of trial, I felt drawn towards the helpless little thing.

I kissed it and put it back into its cradle, and was about to leave the room when the nurse, a respectable widow woman with a motherly air, asked me straight out what were my wishes about the child and by what name it was to be baptised, seeing that when I was in jail she might not be able to ascertain them.  The good woman’s question made me wince, but, recognising that in view of eventualities these matters must be arranged, I took a sheet of paper and wrote down my instructions, which were briefly that the child should be named Emma Jane after its mother and mine, and that the nurse, Mrs. Baker, should take it to her cottage, and be paid a weekly sum for its maintenance.

Having settled these disagreeable details I went downstairs, but not to the dinner that was waiting for me, as after the nurse’s questions I did not feel equal to facing the other domestics.  Leaving the house I walked about the streets seeking some small eating-place where I could dine without being recognised.  As I wandered along wearily I heard a harsh voice behind me calling me by name, and, turning, found that the speaker was Mr. Stephen Strong.  Even in the twilight there was no possibility of mistaking his flaming red tie.