‘Si-lence!’ proclaimed the usher.
‘Who is that?’ inquired the judge, looking over his spectacles.
‘My lord, I am this foolish fellow’s master; and I am perfectly convinced’——
‘I cannot hear you, sir. If the prisoner wishes to have counsel assigned to him for his defence, I will name a gentleman, and will take care that the prisoner shall have due opportunity for his instruction; and if you desire to give evidence on his behalf, you can do so.—Prisoner, is it your wish that counsel be assigned to you for your defence?’
Harden had been standing with his head slightly bent, and his clasped hands resting on the rail of the dock. He now looked up at the judge, and replied in a grave and impassive voice: ‘My lord, I wish no help but the help of God. I am in His hands, and I am an innocent man. If He sees good to deliver me, He will do so. Who am I, that I should interfere with His work?’
‘You appear to me,’ said the judge gently, ‘to be under an unfortunate delusion. You say rightly that you are in God’s hands; but that should not hinder you from using such instruments for your deliverance as he offers you. Once more I will ask, do you now desire to be represented by counsel?’
‘I do not, my lord.’
‘So be it.—Now, Mr Clincher.’
Rising once more, counsel for the prosecution proceeded to open his case. It was clear and straightforward, put concisely and tellingly, and embraced the facts which the reader already knows. He then called his witnesses; and as each after each left the box, it was easy to see from the faces of the jury that things were likely to go hard with the prisoner. Always, in answer to the inquiry, ‘Do you wish to put any questions to this witness?’ Harden replied: ‘No, my lord. He has said the truth, for all I know.’
So smoothly did the trial run its course, that only one incident called for remark. This was when my client got into the box; and so indecently eager did he appear to be to procure the conviction of the prisoner, that he twice called down upon himself a severe rebuke from the judge, for persistently volunteering irrelevant statements to Harden’s prejudice. And when counsel at length said, ‘That, m’lud, is my case,’ and sat down, but little doubt remained as to the prisoner’s fate. I still sat with my gaze fascinated by the set face in the dock, trying—trying to remember when and where I had last looked upon it.