Then he took the evidence for the defence. He drew a pathetic picture of the prisoner suffering in silence to screen his sweetheart; of his refusal at first to make any defence; of his determination to plead guilty; and finally, his consent when he believed his sweetheart safe on the Continent, solely because of his aged father’s grief at the dishonour and the stigma that would attach to his sister’s good name. He spoke for forty-six minutes, and concluded a clever and eloquent defence with the following words: "Gentlemen of the jury, were I not convinced myself of the innocence of the prisoner at the bar, I could not stand before you and ask you for a verdict that will place his own sweetheart in the position in which he now stands. But my learned friend who represents the Crown, heard the confession of Ruby Strode as it fell from her lips in the solicitors’ office only last night. Had he listened as I did to her ready answers to every question asked—seen her evident sincerity and heard her straightforward account of the whole transaction, he would, I feel certain, never have allowed this case to go on. I only ask you for justice for an innocent man, and I leave him in your hands, gentlemen, confident that he will receive it." There was a burst of applause as he sat down—instantly suppressed by the ushers—and then the Judge summed up. He reviewed the evidence very shortly, and pointed out to the jury that it was for them to consider these statements and to say if they believed the affidavit put up for the defence. If they believed this, then it was their duty to acquit the prisoner. On the other hand, if they did not believe the confession therein to be true, if they believed the contention of the prosecution that it was made under the motive of affection for the prisoner, then they must, on the evidence before them, find the prisoner guilty. On the point of law there was no difficulty. Fraud had been committed, and it was for them to say if it had been committed by the prisoner or not. He warned them against allowing their sympathies to interfere with their judgment, but at the same time he must remind them that if any uncertainty existed in their minds, they were bound to give the prisoner the benefit of any such doubt. CHAPTER XII. MARRIAGE IS IMPOSSIBLE. Directly the Judge had finished his summing-up, the jury rose and left the Court to consider their verdict. The general opinion was that they would not take much time before coming to a decision, and so quite half the people remained in their places. A subdued hum of conversation arose; women surreptitiously powdered their faces, others fanned themselves. In the corridors outside barristers discussed the case.