Yet among those present were many—even in the rank of the august judges—who knew something of young Jefferay and had heard of his recent deed of daring on the Thames.
Among these a deep feeling of dismay and commiseration arose, so clear and undeniable appeared the evidence of the young prisoner's folly; already they seemed to see the executioner clipping the ears and slitting the nose of his victim!
It was at this critical moment that the Cardinal again turned towards the Chancellor and whispered something in his ear; Lord Arundel nodded assent to his suggestion.
Cardinal Pole thereupon addressed the Court. The Cardinal's voice was soft and musical; he spoke in low and gentle terms, yet was he distinctly audible even to the furthest extremity of that great hall.
"There is a mystery in this case," he said, "and it does not lie upon the surface. Some of us are not convinced as to the identity of the accused, notwithstanding the evidence of the Queen's officers. By permission of the Lord Chancellor I call upon the Treasurer of Gray's Inn, Sir John Jefferay, and the Master of the Rolls, Sir Philip Broke, to give evidence upon this vital point."
An excited murmur passed among the audience as Sir John Jefferay, in obedience to this command, rose in his place and proceeded to the witness-box, and addressing the Court, said—
"With your permission, my Lords, I will first ask for the date and the hour of the alleged assault."
Much marvelling, the Pursuivant rose and said in reply—
"It was on the seventeenth day of July, and the hour was about eight o'clock in the morning."
"Thank you, Mr. Pursuivant," replied Sir John, with great gravity; then, turning towards the Bench of Judges, he said—