“This was very wrong,” observed his honour.
“It was wrong, sir; but not half as wrong as the murders and arson,” coolly remarked Williams.
“Go on, gentlemen—time is precious.”
“Now, Mrs. Burton, I wish to ask you a very particular question, and I beg that your answer may be distinct and guarded—did you ever have access to the piece of gold found, or said to be found, in Mary Monson’s purse, except on the occasion of the inquest?”
The longest pause of all, and the deepest shading of the brow. So long was the self-deliberation this time, as to excite a little remark among the spectators. Still, it was no more than prudent to be cautious, in a cause of so much importance.
“I certainly have, sir,” was the reply that came at last. “I saw it in Dorothy Goodwin’s stocking, several times; had it in my hand, and examined it. This is the way I came to discover the notch. Aunt Dolly and I talked about that notch, as I have already told the court.”
“Quite true, ma’am, we remember that; all your answers are carefully written out—”
“I’m sure nothing that I have said can be written out, which is not true, sir.”
“We are to suppose that. And now, ma’am, permit me to ask if you ever saw that piece of money at any other time than at those you have mentioned. Be particular in the answer.”
“I may,” after a long pause.