“That's interesting,” said his Grace, but with no air of participating particularly. “She doesn't like him, though, does she? Wouldn't do to put her on the jury.”
He did not wait for any reply, but turned to Mr. Palford.
“All this is delightfully portentous. Do you know it reminds me of a scene in one of those numerous plays where the wrong man has murdered somebody—or hasn't murdered somebody—and the whole company must be cross-examined because the curtain cannot be brought down until the right man is unmasked. Do let us come into this, Mr. Palford; what we know seems so inadequate.”
Mr. Palford and Mr. Grimby each felt that there lurked in this manner a possibility that they were being regarded lightly. All the objections to their situation loomed annoyingly large.
“It is, of course, an extraordinary story,” Mr. Palford said, “but if we are not mistaken in our deductions, we may find ourselves involved in a cause celebre which will set all England talking.”
“I am not mistaken,” Palliser presented the comment with a short and dry laugh.
“Tha seems pretty cock-sure!” Hutchinson thrust in.
“I am. No one knew Jem Temple Barbolm better than I did in the past. We were intimate—enemies.” And he laughed again.
“Tha says tha'll swear th' chap tha saw through th' window was him?” said Hutchinson.
“I'd swear it,” with composure.