“No, a thousand times no!” said Bertie. “I have already said my friend is the soul of honor,” and he half-turned to the dock.
Mr. Edgar bowed to him.
“Thank you, Lord Granville. I call now Mr. Vanley.”
The poor squire went into the box, Bertie taking his hand and pressing it as he passed.
“How pale and worried the poor squire do look!” murmured a man, and an echo of sympathy ran around.
“Tell us what you know of Lord Clydesfold, if you please, sir,” said Mr. Edgar, with all a young man’s respect for age.
The squire, in a low yet distinct voice, told the story the reader knows so well.
“Do you think him capable of committing a murder?”
“Quite—quite incapable,” said the squire, and he was about to leave the box, when Mr. Edgar stopped him with a question.
“This murder was discovered some few hours after the marriage of Miss Vanley to Mr. Bradstone?”