“The habit was so well known that it was amusing to you? You have often laughed about it among yourselves?” “Yes, sir.” “You were known to say yourself on one occasion when she was what you call particularly ‘merry,’ ‘Emma would do for anybody on a quartern of gin’?” “Yes, sir.” “You have a distinct recollection of saying that?” “Yes, sir.” “Your meaning was that when your friend had had that quantity of alcohol the airs of bravado she assumed were quite ridiculously out of keeping with her character?” “Yes, sir.” “And the point of your saying lay in the fact that whether your friend had had drink or whether she had not, her character was so soft and gentle that you could not conceive her to be capable of hurting anybody?” “Yes, sir.” “She has been your friend for ten years?” “Yes, sir.” “Throughout that period you have found her to be generous, kind, impulsive, lovable?” “Yes, sir.” “No one’s enemy save her own?” “Yes, sir.” “Had it ever seemed possible to you that if she was capable of the commission of this atrocious crime of which she stands accused, she could never have enjoyed the ten years of your friendship, nor the ten years of affection you lavished on her?” “Yes, sir.” “It was no wish of your own that brought you to this court?” “Yes, sir.” “Indeed, you cannot say you came here of your own free will?” “Yes, sir.” “You were brought here under compulsion?” “Yes, sir.” “Without that compulsion nothing would have induced you to come here, and stand in this box, and speak words which might be used to hurt your friend?” “Yes, sir.” The witness had been weeping softly for some time. Her emotion, which in the circumstances was natural, was also felt to be a tribute to the examining counsel. The gentleness of a voice which touched the chord of pathos in every phrase it uttered without betraying a consciousness that it did so, invested a series of tame and unfruitful questions with an æsthetic quality which even the least educated of those present could appreciate. At this point, however, Mr. Weekes rose brusquely and tartly with an objection. His friend had trespassed beyond the privilege of counsel. The objection was upheld by the judge, who with a kind of courteous acerbity informed Northcote in some very harmonious diction that he would do well to put his question in another form. “I will do so, my lord,” said the young man, with admirable composure and raising his voice a little. “You were forced to come here by the police?” “Yes, sir.” “In whom you stand in great fear?” “Yes, sir.” “You are compelled to do all that they require of you?” “Yes, sir.” “And when they take one of your friends to prison, and they come to you and suggest words that she may have used to you when she was not in a condition to weigh them, you know very well that whatever your own feeling is in the matter, you must say nothing, and you must do nothing that is likely to displease the police?”