A. Many times. (Here Vassalla shrugged his shoulders).
This was the close of Mrs. Verschoyle's examination, and was supposed by the people present to be conclusive evidence of the prisoner's guilt. There was no evidence for the prosecution, and so the counsel for the defence arose to make his speech, a speech which considerably startled everyone.
In the first place, he said Mrs. Verschoyle was guilty of perjury--(sensation)--gross perjury; it was true the prisoner was once in love with her, but that was seven years ago, and he had long since forgotten his passion. The prisoner was on board the "Neptune" on the night in question, going to England, and Mrs. Verschoyle also came on board; she wanted to see her husband, and the prisoner, hearing the number of the cabin, volunteered to look for him; he was considerably delayed in the crowd, and did not reach the cabin for some time, particularly as he met one of the stewards, who asked him about his luggage, and engaged his attention for nearly ten minutes.
When he reached the cabin, he knocked, and, getting no reply, entered. He found the deceased dead (sensation), having committed suicide, and on the washstand by the berth was a letter directed to Mr. R. Monteith, a friend of the deceased, stating that he had committed suicide. This paper the prisoner took charge of, and was coming out with it, when he met Mrs. Verschoyle. He told her what had occurred, and she was so shocked with the news that she went straight on shore.
The prisoner was blameable in not producing the paper at the inquest, but had anyone been accused of the crime, he would have produced it. With regard to the stiletto, it was once the property of the prisoner, but he had given it to the deceased as a parting gift before he left for Australia, for both the deceased and prisoner were good friends then.
The wife of the deceased, Mrs. Verschoyle, knew that the deceased had the dagger in his possession, as the prisoner showed a letter to her from deceased, acknowledging the gift of stiletto (letter produced). She was in love with prisoner, who refused to marry her, being in love with Miss Carmela Cotoner, to whom he was engaged to be married. Mrs. Verschoyle, hearing of this, came here from Valletta, and had a private interview with prisoner. During his absence from his room at the Langham Hotel she stole the confession made by the deceased, and it is now in her possession--she----
"That's a lie!" cried Mrs. Verschoyle, mad with fury, rising from her seat.
"Silence in the court!" cried the usher.
"I will not be silent. It is an infamous lie. That man is guilty of murder. He killed my husband, and by God!--by God!----"
All at once she stopped speaking, her face turned to a ghastly pallor, and appeared convulsively drawn to one side as if by a stroke of paralysis. Every eye in the Court was fastened on that solitary figure, and there was an awful pause of expectancy. Another moment and she fell prone on the floor with a heavy thud.