“No—no. She has a right to take counsel with her advisers on such a matter as a withdrawal of her claim. You mustn’t forget, Mr. Tempest, she has practically admitted there is some secret of hers mixed up in this matter. You yourself have suggested it is a secret that Sir John created this trust to obviate the disclosure of, and you have practically threatened the witness with a disclosure of her secret, if she continues her claim. She may well prefer to forfeit a just claim rather than have it disclosed; and, Mr. Tempest, I must remind you I shall not permit any disclosure of a matter which is entirely irrelevant to the issue for the mere purpose of harassing the witness.”
“As your lordship pleases. I could have hoped, my lord, that you would not have thought such a warning necessary to me.”
As Tempest finished speaking there was a momentary hush, and Clutch was heard to say, “I tell you he’s simply bluffing. He often does. Very likely it’s only waste-paper.”
A few whispered words passed between the solicitor and the K. C., and the latter rose, and said, “My client does not withdraw, my lord.”
Tempest calmly broke the remaining seals, and in the dead silence every eye watched him as he took the papers one by one from the packet and unfolded them. The first two were obviously Somerset House certificates. The next was a buff-coloured piece of tissue-paper—obviously the press-copy of a letter. With a cursory glance that also was laid aside. The last remaining paper was a letter which Tempest read through as the court waited. Refolding it he slipped the papers back into the parcel, and resumed his cross-examination.
“Lady Rellingham, I will ask you again, were not the letter and the other paper you produce given to Evangeline Stableford?”
“They were not.”
“How did they come into your possession?”
“Sir John gave them to me himself with his own hands.”
“Didn’t you take them from the dead body of Evangeline Stableford?”