“Ah, that is unfortunate,” exclaimed the judge, disappointedly. “It is impossible to call her in a case of this description.”
At that moment the usher handed Mr Roland a note. He read it hastily, and, raising his hand, said:
“The lady has just arrived in court, and is about to produce important evidence, m’lord.”
The silence was unbroken, save for the frou-frou of Vera’s dress as she advanced towards my counsel, and bent over him, whispering.
Mr Roland was seated close to the dock, and I strained my ears to catch their hurried conversation.
In face of the horrible charge brought against me, the persistency with which it was pursued, and the evidence produced in support of it, I had been so overwhelmed by a sense of fatality that I had almost decided to let things take their course. I knew I was innocent, nevertheless I felt the difficulty, if not the impossibility, of proving it. Now, however, encouraged by this proof of sympathy on the part of Vera, I took heart.
“What will these witnesses prove?” asked Mr Roland, hurriedly.
Vera, whose face was rendered more delicate and touching by the tortures she seemed undergoing, glanced quickly towards me, and replied:
“They will prove my husband’s innocence!”
Counsel uttered an ejaculation of surprise. “Are you certain of this?” he asked.