But the prisoner's counsel realised that this witness was the most dangerous one of all. Any attempt to browbeat a man of Pollock's known respectability could not but damage his cause in the eyes of the jury. So he assumed a tone at once conciliatory and deprecatory, as though he would convey the idea that Pollock, though incapable of a false statement, might be mistaken in his inferences throughout. "Of course, Pollock, you know Mr Dorrien well now, but at that time you didn't know him very well, did you?" "Well, I'd often seen him, sir, and I knew him well enough by sight. There was something about his walk, too, that I couldn't mistake." "Indeed? But that is not a very sure point to go upon, is it?" "That's as may be, sir." "Now, Pollock, you are on good terms with Mr Dorrien, are you not? You would not wish to injure him?" "No, indeed, sir," answered the witness earnestly. "He's a kind landlord to us, is the Squire--and as for Madam, I've known her since she was a little maid not much higher nor my knee--bless her sweet face." Great applause. Mr Windgate began to look more and more confident. "Quite so. Now, don't you think you may be mistaken in identifying the man who saved Miss Ingelow with the one you met on the cliff on the night of the disappearance of Hubert Dorrien?" "M'lord, I must take exception most strongly to my learned brother's mode of cross-examination," said Mr Benham. "He appeals most powerfully to the feelings of the witness, and then does what is tantamount to begging him to unsay what he has already stated on oath." "Hardly that, I submit," rejoined the other. "My unfortunate client is placed in a very grave position. Surely then it behoves us to make certain as to our facts." "But the witness had already stated on oath his certitude as to the identity of the men." "A man may excusably think twice when such grave issues are at stake, Mr Benham," said the judge. "With the greatest respect I would submit that your lordship is laying down a somewhat dangerous precedent," answered Mr Benham, undaunted. Then the judge retorted, and after some triangular sparring between his lordship and the two counsel, Mr Windgate went on. "What time would it have been when you met the stranger on the cliff that evening?" "It was after nine, sir. Indeed, it was nearly half-past--for very soon after I heard the clock strike." "What clock?" "The Wandsborough clock." "How far from--er--Smugglers' Ladder was the stranger when you met him?" "Maybe half a mile, sir." "How long would it take to walk from Smugglers' Ladder to Battisford? Walking at one's fastest?" "About thirty-five minutes. It might be done in thirty minutes--not in less." "Then this man whom you met on the cliff, within half a mile of Smugglers' Ladder, at nearly half-past nine, could not by any possibility have reached Battisford by five-and-twenty minutes to ten?" "Not possible, sir--even if he ran all the way," repeated the witness firmly.