It was a dingy-looking document, blotched over with postmarks, stained by travel, and a good deal embrowned by being kept several years in the atmosphere of a London law-office.
“My Lord,” said the plaintiff’s counsel, “I have to request that that letter be read to the gentlemen of the jury.”
“Certainly, let it be read,” was the response of his Lordship.
It was read. It was the letter which the chief Corvino had addressed to the father of his captive, conveying the terrible threat and still more fearful enclosure.
The reading caused “sensation in the court.”
“Mr Lawson,” pursued the same questioner, after the excitement had a little subsided, “may I ask you to state to the jury what you know about the enclosure spoken of in this letter? Tell us all about it.”
“I shall tell you what General Harding told me. He said he received in it a finger, which was that of his son. He recognised it by a scar well known to him: it was the scar of a cut given him by his elder brother, when they were boys out shooting together.”
“Can you tell what became of that finger?”
“I can. It is here. General Harding placed it in my hands, along with the letter in which it had been enclosed.”
The witness then handed up the finger spoken of. It was a ghastly confirmation of his testimony, and produced a tremendous sensation in court; which continued, long after Mr Lawson had been noticed to leave the witness-box.