“Thank you, gentlemen, very much,” Pansarta said, in the genuine fashion of the amiably disposed. “It has all been most enlightening. Now since your discussion has closed I will, with your permission, give you my final interpretation of the position. It is given after due consideration of all the points you have raised, and the evidence, which yesterday’s fiasco set before the Court. Let me say at once, that in all my experience of the law I have never been confronted with a case quite like this murder of Constable Sinclair.”
Croisette sat back in his chair. For a few moments, while the Judge reached out and very precisely dropped the remains of his cigar into an ash tray, his interest relaxed, and his thought drifted back to the closing scene before the adjournment of the court the day before.
It was curious how out of all the stirring moments of the day, one incident, alone, which had no apparent relation to the case, stood out above all others in his mind. It was the momentary vision of one of the spectators leaving the court, when feeling and interest were at their highest pitch.
But so it was. And in that moment his quick mind had been impressed with the significance of the incident. He was glad that Fyles had been present to act. He was thinking of the man, Pideau Estevan, now, as the Judge paused in his statement. For it was he who had so hastily left the court at the moment of the crisis that had caused the adjournment of the trial.
The Judge continued in even, dispassionate tones.
“There is no need for me to go over the evidence for you, gentlemen,” he said. “We had the evidence of a number of people which amounted to little or nothing. It simply gave us an insight into the lives of this man, the Wolf, and the girl, Annette. It is the sort of evidence I dislike in court, as it rarely sheds any real light upon the case under consideration, and often helps to prejudice it. It is the sort of evidence to be well sorted and sifted by the police before the case comes on for trial.”
The pleasant eyes flashed into the police officer’s and carried their smile with them.
“I am a little at a loss to understand, however,” he went on, “just why the prosecution did not call the prisoner’s partner, the man, Pideau Estevan. He is the half-breed father of the girl Annette. He must have been intimately connected with the case, and his evidence might have proved valuable.”
Croisette sat up.
“The police were of opinion, sir, that Pideau Estevan would have been an unsatisfactory witness for the prosecution. You see he is, as you say, the father of the girl. He is also the prisoner’s partner. The situation in which he would have been placed would have been extremely awkward. And it would probably have made his evidence unreliable.”