Fortunately, I have got on so far with it that I can now let others speak for me—at least for a while. The next great event in my story is the trial of Evelina, which took place about three weeks after her arrest.
The proceedings are to be found fully reported in all the papers at that time, and you will get a more complete idea of the case by reading one of these reports, than if I give you a verbal account.
* * * * *
Monk opened a drawer in his writing-table, and took out a locked portfolio, from which he produced a large grey envelope. The envelope proved to contain several cuttings from the Morning News, which Monk laid before me.
"But," I objected hurriedly, "I would much rather hear the account from your own lips. Otherwise I should miss your impressions, which, to me, have much more value than a newspaper reporter's idiotic and irrelevant remarks. And even if he does report the bare facts, such a report cannot possibly be as satisfactory as your own account."
"There is a difference in newspaper reporters," was Monk's dry reply. "As you will see, the Morning News man has not only reported carefully and judiciously, but his remarks are impartial, and show good sense and power of observation."
"That's all very well; but I depend, however, more upon your power of observation."
"In this case, you cannot do so. If a detective ever has made a great fiasco, I did so on that occasion, as you yourself will learn. Don't you understand that I am afraid that you are beginning to look at the events with my eyes? I am afraid to lead you into the labyrinth in which I, myself, am lost, and which I probably have myself built up!"
It struck me that Monk's reasoning was correct, and I made no further comment.
"Only one question," I said; "have you any objection to Clara hearing your story?"