“Has the murdered woman been identified?” asked Lord Carfield. “Is anything known about her? There should be some evidence of motive.”
“The woman has been identified, my lord,” said the superintendent, entering the box. “Her name is Bella Lee, but she was known as Bella-Bella. She was a professional acrobat, and quite famous in London, my lord.”
“And in what way do you connect Mr. Faradeane—the prisoner—with her? I cannot see——”
He stopped. It was apparent that he was endeavoring to find any loophole for escape or explanation.
The superintendent hesitated; then, catching the placid eye of Mr. McAndrew, replied:
“Some information is in our possession, my lord; but we do not propose to produce it at this stage. We depend upon the evidence of the gamekeeper and constable.”
“Our duty is clear,” said Lord Carfield, but with a reluctance which was distinctly palpable. “We must commit the prisoner for trial. Have you anything to say?” he asked.
At this moment there was a slight disturbance among the closely-packed persons near the door, and Mr. Bartley Bradstone entered. He looked round him with the air of a man determined not to show nervousness, and then up at the face of the prisoner. Had he anything to say?
Harold Faradeane glanced ever so slightly at Bartley Bradstone, then met Lord Carfield’s grave and troubled regard.
“Nothing, my lord,” came the reply.