“Will you begin by giving me an idea what the nature of your evidence will be?”
“A page or two of print—twenty of manuscript—three or four living witnesses, and—one dead body.”
“Hum! he seems in earnest, gentlemen. How long do you require to state your case? Can it be done to-day?” Mr. Lacy looked at his watch half peevishly.
“Half an hour,” was the reply.
“Only half an hour?”
“Ay, but half an hour neat.”
“What do you mean by neat?”
“The minutes not to be counted that are wasted in idle interruptions or in arguments drawn from vague probabilities where direct evidence lies under our senses. For instance, that because I have been twenty-five years a servant of Christ with good repute, therefore it is not to be credited I could bring a false accusation; or that because Mr. Hawes was brave twenty years ago in one set of circumstances, therefore he cannot be cruel now in another set of circumstances.”
Mr. Lacy colored a little, but he took a pinch of snuff, and then coolly drew out of his pocket a long paper sealed.
“Have you any idea what this is?”