“Come, sir,” demanded my counsel sharply, “did you not overhear a conversation in the early morning?”
The witness appeared confused.
“Yes, I did,” he admitted. “I heard my cousin ask him to wait a stipulated period for an explanation.”
“Have you any idea what this explanation is?”
“None.”
“Then, after all, you are unable to throw any light whatever upon these mysterious crimes?” he asked, in a strange harsh voice.
“I’ve told you all I know,” replied Demetrius, a trifle paler than before.
Mr Roland flung down his brief upon the table, slowly resumed his seat, and pushed his wig from off his forehead with a perplexed gesture.
I could hardly realise my situation. What could it all possibly mean? What was the object of this seaman giving evidence when he could throw no light upon the matter, except that he actually saw me following the murderer from Bedford Place?
He had taken a seat in the well of the Court with his face turned towards me.