"Nearly two years in the service of a man you suspected of murder. I should say you had a most elastic conscience, Mr Johnston, were it not that your conduct looks very like an attempt to extract hush money. Now, has your master ever had occasion to find fault with you previously?" "He has once or twice said I must be more ceevil. He was a mighty partecklar gentleman." "Quite so. And did you not, on a former occasion, attempt to take legal proceedings against the accused, because his dog bit you?" "I did. But that was in the late General Dorrien's time." "And you were not a favourite with the accused at any time?" "Well--no." "That I can easily understand," rejoined Mr Windgate, with bitter significance. "The marvel is that he kept you for a single day." "My learned friend is not justified in making such reflections on the witness," objected Mr Benham. "My learned friend need not mind. I have now done with this witness, and I devoutly thank Heaven for it," retorted Mr Windgate. "One moment, Johnston," said the Crown counsel. "Have you ever in any way traded upon your suspicions to obtain money or favours from your employer?" "Never. I solemnly swear." There was a low hiss at the back of the room as Johnston left the box, which even the judge pretended not to hear. CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. A SCRAP OF PAPER. In answer to a call for Mrs Eliza Clack, a hatchet-faced harpy entered the box, and, the first diffidence over, tried all she knew to justify her patronymic. From this propensity, however, Mr Benham managed to pick out the facts that she knew the prisoner, could swear to him anywhere, that he had lodged with her a couple of months two and a half years ago, and had left at a date which would be but the day before the deceased's disappearance. He owned a large red and white dog then, which he had disposed of while in her house. She had always thought him a strangely-mannered gentleman, and was not altogether sorry to see the last of him. He looked somewhat different then to what he did now, he wore a beard--and yes, now it was put to her, she thought he was getting a little grey at that time. How could she remember the date? insisted Mr Windgate, when his turn came. Well, she did remember it. Could swear to it, in fact. But two and a half years was a long time. Well, yes it was, but she remembered it by several things. It was the same night that the boy next door had blinded her tortoiseshell cat with a catapult. And it was the day before her daughter was turned away from her situation, well, never mind why--it wasn't true; an answer which sent a ripple of mirth through the room. However, the woman could swear to the prisoner, and swore tenaciously to the date, which was all the prosecution wanted.