The excited voice of the counsel rather failed of its effect as the judge looked down upon him. "Sir Robert is within his rights, Mr. M'Arthur," he said. "He would not ask these questions without good reason."
Sir Robert Fyffe saw his chance at once. He glanced at the jury; he made a little deprecating motion of his head to the President. "Too good reason, my lord! My duty is not a pleasant one.... Was this the first time, Mrs. Admaston, that you had received Mr. Collingwood in this state of undress—when the rest of the household was asleep?"
Peggy had clasped her hands. She threw them apart with a wild gesture and clutched the rail of the witness-box. "My lord!" she said, "I assure you that nothing has ever taken place between us."
The President gazed at her with calm compassion.
He had heard appeals like this one too often. He was not there to be influenced by emotions, or to be prejudiced by his natural kindness of heart.
He was there to judge.
"You must answer Sir Robert, Mrs. Admaston," he said quietly.
"We used to sit up late sometimes at Lord Ellerdine's and talk," Peggy admitted.
There were murmurs all over the court. Society was interested.
Sir Robert Fyffe leant forward to the solicitor in front of him, said something in an undertone, and then looked up.