"He came--let me see--it was on a Saturday evening. I remember it, because it was the day before Mr Hubert Dorrien was lost." "Now what sort of person was this Mr Durnford? Just describe him." "A very nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman, and quite the gentleman," and then the loquacious one launched into a voluminous description of the stranger, which made the audience laugh and the judge knit his brows and mutter impatiently. "How long did he stay at `The Silver Fleece'?" "Rather over a fortnight, sir." "Have you ever seen him since?" "No, sir." "But if you did you would know him again--in a moment?" "Oh, yes, sir." "Now look at the accused." Grainger complied. The eyes of the witness and the prisoner met. In those of the latter there was indifference--in those of the former there was no recognition. "Is he the same man as the man you knew as Robert Durnford?" The loquacious one's homely features expanded into a broad grin. "Law bless you, no, sir. He ain't in the least like him." Mr Windgate could have danced with relief. "He isn't in the least like him," he repeated emphatically, for the benefit of the jury. As for Roland himself, the first gleam of light since his arrest a month ago now darted in upon the rayless gloom of his soul. "Except--" The witness checked himself suddenly and with an effort. He could have bitten his tongue out. For Mr Benham had looked up quickly and was now making a note. Mr Windgate thought it better to let him go on. "Except what?" he said playfully. "I was goin' to say, sir, leastways I was only thinking, sir," answered the witness, stammering with confusion, "except it might be the way in which he stands." Mr Benham went on making his notes. His opponent's feeling of relief was dashed, and the prisoner could have groaned aloud in the revulsion. Then the witness in his roundabout way gave a voluble account of how the stranger had gone over to attend Wandsborough church, and had returned earlier than he was expected; and how he had come in while he-- Grainger--was dozing. "What time did he return?" "It was after half-past nine." "How much after?" "Five minutes." "You are positive as to this?" "Oh, yes, sir--I said to the gentleman as how he'd come back very quick, 'cos they don't come out o' church till after half-past eight, and it's over an hour's walk at least. I asked him if he'd come by the way of the cliffs, and he didn't seem to know there was a way by the cliffs as was shorter." Mr Windgate frowned slightly, and internally anathematised the witness' garrulity. "Anyhow, you are ready to swear it was five-and-twenty minutes to ten when this Mr Durnford came in?" "Yes, sir--quite certain. We both looked at the clock and remarked it." "But one of the servants, a"--consulting his notes--"a Jane Flinders, says it was later." The loquacious one shook his head with a smile of pitying superiority.