The crowd elbowed and jostled its way into the street, where the newsboys were shouting "Special edition! Great fraud case—full account."
The barristers were collecting their papers, and Mr. Marshall touched John Dale on the shoulder: "Come on, Mr. Dale, we will go and have a cup of tea together at my own special tea-room. It is only just across the road!"
The old man had sat beside his son's counsel throughout the long day, and as witness succeeded witness and the chain of evidence grew stronger, his face became sterner and sterner, and when the eminent K.C., who represented the Crown, had reviewed it, taking each link in turn and cleverly wielding the whole into one perfect piece—there seemed not a flaw in the chain of evidence against the prisoner. He was already condemned, and it seemed to the old man that even he could no longer believe in his innocence.
Mr. Marshall had watched the old man all day, and his kindly heart had been touched by his loneliness and obvious grief. He felt it would be cruel to let him go to his lonely lodgings without doing something to counteract the effect, which the case for the prosecution was bound to leave on the mind of one who was totally ignorant of Law Court methods. So, after removing his wig and gown, he steered the old man across the crowded Strand into the snug little tea-room. When the pretty, ribbon-bedecked Hebe had placed the pot of fragrant bohé and plate of hot muffins between them, Mr. Marshall spoke:
"Well, Mr. Dale, what do you think of the prosecution?"
The old man sipped his tea, and carefully put down his cup before he replied: "I'm afraid it looks very black for my poor boy. I hardly know what to think. Do you know, sir, that last speech absolutely shook my faith in Rupert's innocence; what, then, must be its effect on the Judge!"
Mr. Marshall laughed heartily. "Good gracious, Mr. Dale, you must not take anything he said seriously; and, besides, it is the jury, not the Judge, that matters. It will be my turn to-morrow. You have not heard the other side yet."
The old man looked up quickly. "Do you really think there is still hope, sir?"
"Hope, Mr. Dale! I am hoping to-morrow to completely pulverise my learned friend, Mathews. Why, bless me! he entirely ignored the fact that the man who sent the cheque to the bank has not yet been found, while the woman, Ruby Strode, who actually received the money, is also not forthcoming. My dear sir, these two facts alone, when—ahem!—skilfully handled, are quite enough to damn the case for the prosecution! Remember this: In English law a man is innocent until he has been proved guilty. I admit there are many very suspicious circumstances, which our learned friend made the most of; but there has been no direct evidence in proof adduced, and that is our strong point. The evidence to-day, however strong, was purely circumstantial. Mind, I do not say as things stand at present that there is no danger of an adverse verdict; but I do say that we have a good case. I wish we could find that young woman. I feel certain that her evidence would go far to clear your son."
"You have greatly relieved my mind," Dale sighed, "for I was feeling very down about it; and now I must be getting back to my rooms. I wonder if I can get a 'bus to Bloomsbury?"