“Indeed, Miss Kingscott! I do not like as a rule to tamper with an opponent’s witness, but as they played so very sharply with us, I think we may stretch a point in the present instance.” And the lawyer again rubbed his hands expectantly, waiting for what the governess had to say.
“Now, what I am going to tell you,” continued Miss Kingscott, “I am going to disclose in confidence, and I wish you to pledge me your word—I know you to be a gentleman, and I believe you to be a man of honour—that not a particle of the information I give you is to be mentioned by you until the day the trial comes on, when, of course, you are welcome to make what use you please of it!”
“That’s very strange, Miss Kingscott, very strange. I don’t know what I might be binding myself to!”
“You will find nothing to reflect on you, sir,” resumed the governess, “I shall be the only one who will suffer; and the very fact of my telling you what I will do will be a proof of its truthfulness and veracity. You can, in the meantime, substantiate anything I say by your own personal enquiry.”
“It’s very strange! very strange, indeed, madam! But I take your word for it, and will pledge myself as you require, excepting always,” he added, with his legal acumen, “that it does not prejudice my future act on in the matter.”
“It certainly will not; I shall want you to act!” said Miss Kingscott; and thereupon she told the astonished lawyer all about her complicity with Markworth, the compact between them, and how it was carried out.
“Dear me, this is very strange!” said the lawyer, when she had concluded. “You haven’t got any document to show, have you, in proof of what you say?”
“No; only my word.”
“Quite so! Quite so! What am I thinking of? Why, the very fact of your coming forward, and implicating yourself in the conspiracy will be proof enough.”
The lawyer did not look on Miss Kingscott with the same deference that he had previously shown her. He eyed her somewhat askance, but he presently resumed his cross-examination.