The gallery at the back of the court was packed with people, and there was a curious hush and stillness over everything.
All eyes were directed to one point—to the witness-box, where Mrs. Admaston was standing.
At the moment when the two men entered both Mr. M'Arthur and Sir Robert Fyffe were standing up.
"I have noted your question, Mr. M'Arthur, and do not think it is admissible at this stage," the President was saying. "No doubt, if Sir Robert's cross-examination follows a certain line, you can return to the matter when you re-examine your witness."
Sir Robert Fyffe sat down.
"If your lordship pleases," he said
Mr. M'Arthur turned over the leaves of a notebook. He was Mrs. Admaston's leading counsel, and his examination continued:
"Now, Mrs. Admaston, let me be quite sure that you clearly understand the charges you have to meet. It is alleged that you arranged to miss the train at Boulogne in order to spend the evening in Paris with the co-respondent."
"That is not true," pierced through the dull, blanket-like silence of the court.
Few people enough have any experience of a court. They read long and large accounts of what goes on in the daily papers. Well-known descriptive writers endeavour to present a true picture of what they themselves have witnessed. And in the result almost every one whose experience of trials is taken almost entirely from the newspapers imagines that the scene of justice is some vast hall. It is all magnified and splendid in their thoughts. The reality is quite different.