“Yes, sir. My friend, my lifelong friend, Mr. George Pickering, was but too well aware of the fate that threatened him. I have here a letter, written and signed by him on Thursday morning. With your permission, I will read it.”
“I object,” cried Mr. Dane.
“On what grounds?” asked the Coroner.
“Such a letter may have a prejudicial effect on the minds of the jury. They are here to determine, with your direction, a verdict to be arrived at on certain evidence. This letter cannot be regarded as evidence.”
Mr. Stockwell shrugged his shoulders.
“I do not press the point,” he said. “I fail to see any harm in showing a husband’s anxiety that his wife should be cleared of absurd imputations.”
Mr. Dane reddened.
“I consider that a highly improper remark,” he cried.
The other only smiled. He had won the first round. The jury knew what the letter contained, and he had placed the case for the police in an unfavorable light.
The first witness, Pickering’s farm bailiff, gave formal evidence of identity.