On the day that Magendie took the case I had a taste of another kind of lawing than Pitcairn's, for the London man, to speak in a common phrase, oiled everybody. He poured oil over Carew; he drenched Hugh Pitcairn in it; smoothed the jury with it, and I learned to the full the legal value of the unantagonistic mind. After this he turned a light on the case from the other side, giving it an entirely different appearance, holding up the slateful of charges against Danvers, and sponging them carefully off one by one, until I was amazed at his abilities.
There were three important gentlemen, conversant with the duke's habits, to prove that the duke's lung trouble had accustomed him to fresh air, that he slept with all of his windows raised, and that it was his custom to have the window open near him, no matter what the weather. And following came Huey, with the statements that both of the pistols had been at Stair House since before Mr. Danvers's marriage, and that he had put one of them, with a new hagged flint, in the desk at which his grace was writing, within a few days of the murder. Father Michel followed, saying that Danvers had spent the evening of the murder with him, trying to persuade him to go on a sail for a few days, leaving his house about midnight in a composed and quiet frame of mind, with his cap in his hand, it being his custom to go about in all kinds of weather in that manner, a habit contracted at the English school where he was educated. And before any one could stop him, Father Michel, who I knew was tutored to the illegal conduct by Magendie, said earnestly:
"I consider it my duty to state, with no betrayal of my sacred offices, that I know, by the confessional Mr. Carmichael to be innocent of this foul deed."
Pitcairn was roaring objections in a minute, with Carew sustaining him, as was but legally decent; but it mattered little, for the jurors had heard, and I knew that the holy man's words would stick in their minds at verdict time.
Following Father Michel came two respectable serving-men from Arran, declaring that early the morning after the murder Mr. Danvers had sent them to Leith to say that he no longer wanted the boat, and that they had found its owner, the one who had testified for the prosecution, in such a state of intoxication that they could not make their errand clear, and left the message with his errand-boy, who was produced to verify the truth of their statements. And after him came Nancy Stair again, recalled for the defense, to swear to a letter sent to the duke by her the morning of the day of his demise, which read as follows:
"My dear, dear Friend:
"That I love you, you know; but that I can love you with that fondness which a wife should have for a husband is forever an impossibility to me. Perhaps after a time we may be friends again. I have always admired your power. Of late I have admired your goodness as well.
"You say you will have no courage to go on without me, and I wish with all my heart I could love you as you desire, but my heart's all gone from me, and to one who never will know.
"'Courage to go on!' If I have it, can not you who are so much stronger have it as well?
"Affectionately your Friend,