He turned now toward the judge.
“Your Honor,” he said, “the elaborate ingenuity of this whole criminal plan is utterly beyond the feeble intelligence of these prisoners. It is the work of some competent person; some person well known to the decedent; some person who knew a disguise to be useless; some one who had access to the house and was able to set up the evidence of a second theory after the first had failed—such an one was the assassin of Hiram Halloway.”
There was absolute silence in the court room. The witness sat gripping the arms of his chair, his face distended as with some physical pressure.
The big attorney, at the end of his significant pause, added a final sentence:
“And now, that we have found the money, we can name the man!”
The prosecuting attorney, utterly astonished, put the question, the answer to which the whole court room awaited:
“Found the money! Where?”
The big lawyer sat down in his chair; his huge body relaxed; his face assumed its vague placidity and his voice descended into its old, deep-seated, dwindling whine:
“It’s sewed up in the lining of Mr. Barkman’s coat. Lyin’ Louie felt it when he posed him for the jury.”