‘The judge said we oughtn’t to go against Mr. Lewis,’ he said, ‘and I stand by what the judge says. Besides, I look at what he said when he gave her in charge.’
‘What was that?’ said the foreman eagerly.
‘I’ll tell you, sir. It was in the paper at the time, and I happened to keep it by me, and so when I was summoned as a juror, thinks I to myself, “This may come in useful if I should happen to be on the jury that’s to try her,” so I just cuts it out and brings it in my pocket.’
The other men looked on keenly, as he slowly drew out his pocket-book and extracted a newspaper cutting, embracing some two and a half columns of the Southern Daily News. Everyone hoped that something of a decisive character would now be forthcoming.
The watchmaker ran his finger down the columns.
‘Here it is!’ he exclaimed, and read it aloud.
‘“On reaching the police-station, of which Constable Smithies was then in charge, Mr. Lewis said: ‘I charge Eleanor Owen with the murder of my aunt, Ann Elizabeth Lewis. I have made some money, and, please God, I’ll spend every penny of it rather than my poor aunt shall remain unavenged.’
‘“Constable Smithies at once summoned Sergeant—” that’s it,’ concluded the watchmaker, looking up from his extract.
A murmur and shaking of heads followed, and the foreman again felicitously voiced the general feeling: