At last Mr Roland rose to make his speech in my defence. The circumstantial evidence already produced was, I knew, sufficient to cause the jury to find me guilty, and I listened in rapt attention to the clear, concise arguments of the famous advocate. But how unsatisfactory was his speech--how weak was his defence! With a sinking heart I saw more than one of the jury smile incredulously when my innocence was asserted. "I admit, gentlemen," said Mr Roland, in the course of his address, "that this case is enshrouded in mystery; but while asserting that the prisoner is innocent, I tell you plainly there is a secret. The key to this enigma is known to one person alone, and that person, for reasons with which I am myself unacquainted, is not in a position to divulge it. That this secret bears directly upon the crime is obvious, nevertheless it is a most unfortunate circumstance that the mystery cannot be wholly elucidated by a satisfactory explanation. However, I have several witnesses whom I purpose calling before you; and having heard them, I shall ask you to discharge the prisoner, feeling assured you will be convinced that he is entirely innocent." "But, Mr Roland, this is a most extraordinary case," interposed the judge. "You speak of a person who knows the secret and refuses to give evidence. If this is so, this person is party to the crime. To whom do you refer?" Counsel held a brief consultation with his junior, then rose again. The Court was all expectancy. "I refer, m'lord, to no less a person than the prisoner's wife!" The reply caused a sensation. Vera knew the secret! I was not wrong. "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.