I started my business of cross-examination, accordingly, with a few tentative questions, testing whether the ice would bear before I took the other foot off dry land. It did not seem to be very strong, I thought. Some of them were a little bewildering, perhaps, but that, doubtless, was their only fault, which the Prince was desirous of amending, and he graciously appealed to me in a very sensible manner by suggesting that if I would put a question that he could answer, he would do so.
I thought it a fair offer, even from a Prince, if I could only trust him. I kept my bargain, and definitely shaped my examination so that "Yes" and "No" should be all that would be necessary.
We got on very well indeed for some little time, his answers coming with great readiness and truth. He was perfectly straightforward, and so was I.
"Yes, sir," "No, sir;" that was all.
As I have said, at this time I had not had much experience in cross-examination, but I had some intuitive knowledge of the art waiting to be developed. Napoleon gave me my first lesson in that department.
"I am afraid, sir," said his Highness, "you have been sadly misinstructed in this case."
"I am afraid, sir, I have," said I. "One or the other of us must be wrong, and I am much inclined to think it's my solicitor."
It was a nice little bull, which the Prince liked apparently, for he laughed good-humouredly, and especially when I found, as I quickly did, that my strength was to sit still, which I also did.
I had learned by this exhibition of forces that there was a defence, if I could only keep it up my sleeve. To expose it before the magistrate would simply enable Clarkson, who was opposed to me, to bring up reinforcements, and knock me into a cocked hat instead of Napoleon. Old Saul knew nothing whatever about my intended manoeuvre, nor did Clarkson or his solicitor.
I knew the man would be committed for trial; the magistrate had intimated as much. I therefore said nothing, except that I would reserve my defence.