“I do,” said the witness, boldly. “I 'll swear to that coat, my Lord, and I 'll prove I 'm right. It was the same stuffing put into both collars; and if I 'm telling you the truth, it 's a piece of ould corduroy is in that one there.”
The very grave was not more still than the court as the officer of the jail, taking off the coat, ripped up the collar, and held up in his hand a small piece of tarnished corduroy.
“My Lord! my Lord! will you let a poor man's life be swore away—”
“Silence, sir,—be still, I say,” cried the prisoner's counsel, who saw the irremediable injury of these passionate appeals. “I am here to conduct your defence, and I will not be interfered with. Your Lordship will admit that this proceeding has all the character of surprise. We were perfectly unprepared for the line my learned friend has taken—”
“Permit me to interrupt the counsel, my Lord. I need scarcely appeal to this court to vindicate me against any imputation such as the learned gentleman opposite would apply to me. Your Lordship's venerable predecessors on that bench have more than once borne witness to the fairness and even the lenity of the manner in which the crown prosecutions have been conducted. Any attempt to surprise, any effort to entrap a prisoner, would be as unworthy of us as it would be impossible in a court over which you preside. The testimony which the witness has just given, the extraordinary light his evidence has just shown, was only made available to ourselves by one of those circumstances in which we see a manifestation of the terrible judgment of God upon him who sheds the blood of his fellow-man. Yes, my Lord, if any case can merit the designation of Providential intervention, it is this one. Every step of this singular history is marked by this awful characteristic. It is the nephew of the murdered man by whom the first trace of crime has been detected. It is by him that we have been enabled to bring the prisoner into that dock. It is by him that a revelation has been made which, had it not occurred in our own day and under our own eyes, we should be disposed to class amongst the creations of fiction. The learned counsel has told you that these articles of clothing have been produced here by surprise. This affidavit is the shortest answer to that suspicion. From this you will see that, early this morning, young Mr. Dalton requested that two magistrates of the city should be brought to his bedside, to take down the details of an important declaration. The fever which for several days back had oppressed him, had abated for the time, and he was, although weak and low, calm and collected in all his faculties. It was then, with remarkable accuracy, and in a manner totally free from agitation, that he made the following singular revelation.” The counsel then recited, at more length than would suit our reader's patience to follow, the story of Frank's visit to Ireland when a boy, and his accidental presence in the grounds of Corrig-O'Neal on the very night of the murder. “At first the magistrates were disposed to regard this revelation as the mere dream of an erring intellect; but when he described every feature of the locality, and the most intricate details of scenery, their opinion was changed; and when at last he designated the exact spot where he had seen a large bundle buried, it only needed that this should be confirmed to establish the strict truth of all he alleged. With every care and precaution Against deception, the magistrates proceeded to visit the place. They were accompanied by several persons of character and station, in presence of whom the examination was made. So accurate was the narrative, that they found the spot without difficulty, and, on digging down about two feet, they came upon the articles which you now see before you. These, without any examination, they at once sealed up in presence of the witnesses, and here for the first time have they been displayed to view.”
As the counsel had reached thus far, the fall of a heavy body resounded through the court, and the cry was raised that the prisoner had been seized with a fit.
“No, my Lord,” exclaimed the lawyer; “fatigue and weariness alone have produced this effect. My unhappy client is no more proof against exhaustion than against slander.”
“My Lord! my Lord!” cried the prisoner, as, holding by the spikes of the dock, he leaned forwards over it, “can't I get justice? Is it my coat—”
“Sit down, sir,” said his counsel, angrily; “leave this to me.”
“What do you care what becomes of me?” cried the other, rudely. “Where's Father Cahill? Where's——” At this instant his eyes met those of D'Esmonde, as, seated in the gallery immediately above him, he watched the proceedings with an agonizing interest only second to the prisoner's own. “Oh, look what you've brought me to!” cried he, in an accent of heart-broken misery; “oh, see where I'm standing now!”