“Is the murder of Samuel Rogers mentioned in that paper?”
“No, Your Honor. But there are––”
“It is irrelevant,” interrupted the Judge shortly. “It cannot go before the jury.”
The Bishop was beaten; he knew he could do no more.
Emmet Dardis was desperate. There was not the slightest hope for his client––unless––unless. He knew that Rafe Gadbeau had made confession to the Bishop. He had wanted to ask the Bishop this morning, if there was not some way. He had not dared. Now he dared. The Bishop stood waiting for his further questions. There might be some way or some help, thought Dardis; maybe some word had dropped which was not a part of the real confession. He said quickly:
“You were with Rafe Gadbeau at his death?”
“I was.”
“What did he say to you?”
Jeffrey Whiting leaned forward in his chair, his eyes eager and confident. His heart shouting that here was his deliverance. Here was the hour and the need! The Bishop would speak!