The tears rose in his eyes; his voice trembled and almost failed at the last words; but those last words were as distinctly heard in the court as the most powerful tones of the adverse counsel; for there was a dead silence, unbroken by a breath.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
It is very difficult to say whether the change in the practice of our courts, by which prisoners are allowed counsel for their defence, is a real advantage to them or not. It is probable that in most cases the right of reply conceded to the prosecution, and the loss of that assistance which the judge formerly thought himself bound to afford the accused person, more than balances the advantage of a practised defender. Indeed the privilege of reply on the part of the public prosecutor seems a rank injustice. He brings the charge with all his materials prepared; he is bound to establish all the facts clearly, and at once, so as to leave no reasonable doubt. The prisoner replies by his counsel to an accusation made; and if that reply is satisfactory to the jury, the trial should end there, with the summing-up of the evidence, and the exposition of the law by the judge. Can any equitable motive be shown for granting the accuser the last word? I do not think it.
The impression made by the speech of the counsel for the defence on the trial of Chandos Winslow was very great. It carried the jury completely away with it; and one of them whispered to another, that he did not think they need hear any more evidence. It seemed to him that there was no case for the prosecution.
The bar, who regarded it critically, praised it amongst themselves very much, and took especial notice of the manner in which, as one of them expressed it, "Sir ---- got lightly over the soft ground." They were not all sure of Chandos Winslow's innocence; and during the greater part of the speech, they even doubted whether the learned counsel would get a verdict, though they generally agreed he ought. But at the end, when he so boldly declared that he could prove an unexceptionable alibi, their opinions changed, for they knew he was not a rash man, or one to risk the whole success of his case by a mode of defence the slightest shade of suspicion attaching to which, would strengthen every unfavourable impression regarding his client.
The witnesses for the defence were called as soon as the speech was concluded; and all the first were, contrary to general custom, those who could speak to character only. Old servants, old friends of the family, tenants, and neighbours were examined, and each testified with zeal and affection that the prisoner was a man much more likely to save life than to take it. But it was evident that the judge was impatient for the conclusion of the trial; and the questions put for the defence were few and pertinent. A private memorandum found amongst the papers of Mr. Roberts, was then put in and proved to be in his handwriting by his executor, in which the deceased had thus expressed himself: "Mem: to ask Mr. Chandos for some formal notification to respect his rights, and protect them against others in case of need." A few witnesses then proved the terms of affectionate regard on which the prisoner had always lived with his father's steward; and then Lord Overton was called. The judge did not appear to like his evidence being taken; but the counsel for the defence so shaped his questions, that they could not be rejected, and the peer, in mild and dignified terms, very different from his former rude and haughty manner, acknowledged that he had been the aggressor in the quarrel between himself and Mr. Winslow; and that in the whole transaction he had behaved like a gentleman and a man of honour. It required some skill to hang this testimony on to the cause; but that skill was evinced, and the evidence received. All this part of the business was got over very rapidly; but it greatly damaged the case for the prosecution, so much so, that the judge more than once looked to Sergeant ----, as if he were inclined to ask whether they need proceed further.
At length "Thomas Muggeridge" was called, and, to the surprise of Chandos, a man in a plain livery got into the witness-box, and in answer to the questions propounded to him, deposed as follows:--"I am servant to the Honourable and Reverend Horace Fleming, Rector of Northferry. I know the prisoner at the bar by sight. I have once spoken to him. I spoke to him on the night of the fifth of February last. He called and inquired for my master about five o'clock. It might be ten minutes after; for the sun was down. It could not be more; for it was still quite light. I am quite sure of the man; for I had seen him in the streets of Northferry before, and knew him to be Mr. Tracy's head-gardener. I went in and told Mr. Fleming that Mr. Acton wanted to speak with him; and he told me to show him in. When he had been with my master about ten minutes in the library, Mr. Fleming rang, and ordered me to bring lights. The prisoner was then seated on the opposite side of the table to my master. About five minutes after that, my master and the prisoner came out together, and walked through the large rooms which are unfurnished. They had alight with them. My master carried it. I ran to open the doors, and at the same time I said to my master that the gipsey woman, Sally Stanley, wanted to speak to him about her little boy. I had been talking with her at the outer door. Mr. Fleming said he would see her in a few minutes; and when I went back to tell her so, she asked me if I knew who that was talking to my master. I said, 'Oh! quite well;' and she answered, 'No, you don't! That is the son of the late Sir Harry Winslow.' After my master and the prisoner had come out of the empty rooms, they went back into the library and remained there till a quarter to six. The clock struck the quarter as the prisoner went out. He stopped a minute or two at the door to say something to Mr. Fleming. He said, 'It is very unlucky, indeed; but it cannot be helped;' and then he talked a word or two in a language I do not understand. It sounded like Latin; but I cannot say. It was not French; for I have heard that talked. I have not the slightest doubt that the prisoner is the man; I had seen him, half-a-dozen times before in the streets of Northferry; and I had every opportunity of seeing him well that night."
The cross-examination then began by the counsel for the prosecution giving the witness a long exhortation regarding the sanctity of an oath; he then proceeded as follows:--
Counsel.--"How long have you been in the service of the Rev. Mr. Fleming?"
Witness.--"Six years, Sir."