The curate had not been at first subpoenaed. But so urgent had become the need of more testimony that the defence had decided at the last moment to put Turner into the box. The latter looked not a little nervous. Truth to tell, the situation was one of horror to his immaculate soul. He did not fancy being mixed up in criminal trials, as he subsequently put it.
“Now, Mr Turner,” went on Mr Windgate, after a few preliminary questions. “I believe you took part in the search for Miss Olive Ingelow, who was cut off by the tide on this coast some two-and-a-half years ago?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you found her?”
“We were so fortunate.”
“Kindly tell the Court how and where you found her.”
Turner complied in as few words as possible.
“Now, did it strike you that this stranger you mention—this person who rescued the young lady, might have been Mr Roland Dorrien disguised?”
“Never.”
“Never? Then or since?”