Martin hesitated; he looked down, then he looked up again, and was still silent.
"Answer the question."
His eyes met those of the prisoner. Morris smiled at him, and nodded.
"Mr. Taynton told me to say that," he said, "I had once been in Mr.
Taynton's service. He dismissed me. I—"
The judge interposed looking at the cross-examining counsel.
"Do you press your question?" he asked. "I do not forbid you to ask it, but I ask you whether the case for the prosecution of the—the prisoner is furthered by your insisting on this question. We have all heard, the jury and I alike, what the last three or four witnesses have said, and you have allowed that—quite properly, in my opinion—to go unchallenged. I do not myself see that there is anything to be gained by the prosecution by pressing the question. I ask you to consider this point. If you think conscientiously, that the evidence, the trend of which we all know now, is to be shaken, you are right to do your best to try to shake it. If not, I wish you to consider whether you should press the question. What the result of your pressing it will be, I have no idea, but it is certainly clear to us all now, that there was a threat implied in Mr. Taynton's words. Personally I do not wish to know what that threat was, nor do I see how the knowledge of it would affect your case in my eyes, or in the eyes of the jury."
There was a moment's pause.
"No, my lord, I do not press it."
Then a clear young voice broke the silence.
"Thanks, Martin," it said.