But the thing was out of the question. I was certain that he did care for her, and it was altogether impossible that he could care for a woman who in any way whatever resembled this shapeless, pulseless, mummified little man. I knew my friend, the gentleman, too well. I felt persuaded that, as regards resemblance, or rather want of resemblance, to her father, Dora Jardine was one of nature's eccentricities.
It seemed odd when I did begin to come to myself, to notice how the people hung upon every word which the little man was uttering--and they had to hang if they wished to hear. He seemed to be speaking in a whisper. His voice matched his appearance and his size. After one had listened for awhile, however, one began to realise what a singularly penetrating whisper it was. He never raised his voice; he made not the slightest attempt to produce an effect. He spoke as one could fancy a machine might speak, yet each syllable must have been audible to every person there.
And probably his speech, as a whole, produced a strong impression on every one who heard it. I only heard--to understand--the concluding words, but I know that when he sat down I felt as if the first string of the rope which ultimately was to bury the man behind me had been woven before my eyes.
"Call Samuel Parsons!"
Samuel Parsons proved to be a big, shock-headed man of the navvy type. He was not examined by Sir Haselton Jardine, but by another barrister, who was as big and blustering as Sir Haselton was small and quiet.
Samuel Parsons was a ganger. He had been walking along the up line to his morning's work, when he saw something lying among the bushes about half-way down the bank. It was a woman. She was dead. He described the position in which she lay, and exactly whereabouts he found her.
Tommy's counsel asked no questions.
A policeman followed. He had been informed that a woman had been found dead on the line. Went to see her. Described the position in which she lay. Was informed that she had not been touched before he came. She was quite cold. Was well dressed. Her clothes were wet. It had rained earlier in the morning. There was nothing about her to show who she was. Examined her linen later; there were no initials or marks on it of any kind. Her pocket was empty.
Again Tommy's counsel asked no questions.
A porter came next--Joseph Wilcox. He was examined by Sir Haselton Jardine. Joseph Wilcox was a pleasant-faced young fellow, who gave his evidence with a degree of assurance and an air of conviction which--considering what his evidence was--took me aback. If ever there was a witness who seemed convinced of the truth of his own testimony, Joseph Wilcox was the man. And yet----