Pollard had scored. His brother twitched him by the gown from behind as a hint to sit down. But the unfortunate young man must needs try and improve on his lucky shot. He summoned up a very tragic demeanour, and put the fatal question:
‘And is there the smallest ground for suggesting that you were near the house or out of your hotel after ten that night?’
The witness showed confusion. Instead of answering in the prompt, decided style he had hitherto shown, he hesitated for some seconds, and then said with visible embarrassment:
‘No, there is none.’
Pollard hastily sat down. The rules which govern the production of evidence did not permit Tressamer to put a further question to the witness, but he was skilful enough to do what accomplished the same result. He called across the barristers’ table, in a perfectly audible voice:
‘Is anyone from the hotel here, Mr. Pollard?’
‘Not that I know of,’ was the sullen answer.
And now it was the judge’s turn, and he proceeded to put to the witness that question which was in the mind of every person in court, but which neither of the counsel had dared to put, each fearing the answer might be unfavourable to himself.
‘Tell me, Mr. Lewis, had you any special reasons—don’t tell me what your reasons were—but had you any reason apart from what you were told by others for accusing the prisoner of this murder?’
‘I had, my lord.’