“You drove there?”
“Yes. I had Arthur harness up his horse for me and I drove there.”
A moment of silence; then a slow awakening—on the part of judge, jury, and prosecution—to the fact that the case was taking a turn for which they were ill-prepared. To Mr. Moffat, it was a moment of intense self-congratulation, and something of the gratification he felt crept into his voice as he said:
“Miss Cumberland, will you describe this horse?”
“It was a grey horse. It has a large black spot on its left shoulder.”
“To what vehicle was it attached?”
“To a cutter—my brother’s cutter.”
“Was that brother with you? Did he accompany you in your ride to The Whispering Pines?”
“No, I went quite alone.”
Entrancement had now seized upon every mind. Even if her testimony were not true, but merely the wanderings of a mind not fully restored, the interest of it was intense. Mr. Fox, glancing at the jury, saw there would be small use in questioning at this time the mental capacity of the witness. This was a story which all wished to hear. Perhaps he wished to hear it, too.