He stopped, feeling all eyes upon him. He had spoiled the effect his affectionate greeting and indignant assertion of the prisoner’s innocence had produced.
“You may stand down, my lord,” said Mr. Sewell.
He went and stood beside Olivia, and took her hand.
Then Mr. Sewell called the landlord of the George Inn, where Bella-Bella had stopped; Faradeane’s man, who had prevented her entering The Dell—the case looked blacker—and then he called William Alford.
It was Bessie’s turn to shrink and cry now.
“You were passing The Dell, the prisoner’s cottage, the night of the visit of the deceased. Tell us the conversation you heard between her and the prisoner.”
Alford, with a piteous look at Bessie and Faradeane, hesitated.
“I—I don’t remember. I couldn’t hear distinctly.”
Mr. Sewell looked at him sternly.
“Come, sir; were these the words?” and he repeated Bella’s speech, which in a tipsy moment poor Alford had blurted out one night at the George. “You heard her say that she knew the prisoner wished she was dead, that he would like to kill her? Answer, sir!”