"Yes—that's so," admitted Lauriston.
"How much money had you—in the world—when you went to the pawnshop yesterday afternoon?" demanded Mr. Parminter, with a sudden keen glance.
Lauriston flushed scarlet.
"If you insist on knowing," he said. "I'd just nothing."
There was another murmur in court—of pity from the sentimental ladies in the public seats, who, being well acquainted with the pawnshops themselves, and with the necessities which drove them there were experiencing much fellow-feeling for the poor young man in the witness-box. But Lauriston suddenly smiled—triumphantly.
"All the same," he added, glancing at Mr. Parminter. "I'd forty pounds, in my letters, less than an hour afterwards. Ayscough knows that!"
Mr. Parminter paid no attention to this remark. He had been whispering to the police inspector, and now he turned to the Coroner.
"I should like this witness to stand down for a few minutes, sir," he said. "I wish to have Miss Wildrose recalled."
The Coroner gently motioned Zillah to go back to the witness-box.