The next to be called was Dr. Clucas. His hands were twitching and his rubicund face was moist with perspiration—he was obviously an unwilling witness.
Yes, when the constable brought the body of the child he made a post-mortem examination. Applying the usual medical tests he came to the conclusion that the child had been born alive and had died of suffocation. On the morning of the following day he had been called in to see the prisoner. She was suffering from extreme exhaustion—a condition not inconsistent with the idea of recent confinement.
Gell, gathering strength but still agitated, rose again.
"How long had the child lived?"
"An hour or two, probably."
"And how long had it been dead?"
"Twenty-four to thirty hours at the outside."
"Is it your experience that within twenty-four to thirty hours after confinement a woman can walk half-a-mile along a rough and thorny road and carry a burden?"
"It certainly is not, Sir."
Gell sat with a piteous smile of triumph on his pale face, and the Deemster leaned forward again.