CHAPTER XLIV.
THREE WITNESSES.
In the forenoon of the following Tuesday John Treverton again appeared before the magistrate, at the Police-court in Bow Street.
The same witnesses were present who had been examined on the previous occasion. Two medical men gave their evidence as to the dagger, which had been sent to them for examination. One declared that the blade bore unmistakable traces of blood stains, and gave it as his opinion that steel once so sullied never lost the stain. The other stated that a steel blade wiped quickly while the blood upon it was wet would carry no such ineffaceable mark, and that the tarnished appearance of the dagger was referable only to time and atmosphere.
The inquiry dragged itself haltingly towards a futile close, when just as it seemed about to conclude, an elderly woman, wrapped in a thick gray shawl, and a cat-skin sable victorine, and further muffled with a Shetland veil tied over a close black bonnet, came forward, escorted by George Gerard, and volunteered her evidence. This was Mrs. Evitt, who was just well enough to crawl from a cab to the witness-box, leaning on the surgeon’s arm.
‘Oh,’ said the magistrate, when Jane Sophia Evitt had been duly sworn, ‘you are the landlady, are you? Why were you not here last Tuesday? You were subpœnaed, I believe.’
‘Yes, your worship, though I was not in a state of health to bear it.’
‘Oh, you were too ill to appear, were you? Well, what have you to say about the prisoner?’
‘Please, your worship, he oughtn’t to be a prisoner. I ought to have up and spoke the truth sooner—it has preyed upon me awful that I didn’t do it—a sweet young wife, too.’
‘What is the meaning of this rambling?’ asked the magistrate, indignantly. ‘Is the poor creature delirious?’