"Still--sometimes, you know?" "Oh, I'll not say that they don't, sometimes, sir," admitted Mrs. Marriner. "We're all of us human creatures, as you're very well aware, sir." "This particular handkerchief may have got into a wrong basket?" urged Cotman. "It's--possible?" "Oh, it's possible, sir," said Mrs. Marriner. "Mistakes will happen, sir." Mrs. Marriner disappeared amongst the crowd, and a new witness took her place. She, too, was a woman, and a young and pretty one--and in a tearful and nervous condition. Tansley glanced at her and turned, with a significant glance, to Brent. "Great Scott!" he whispered. "Wellesley's housemaid!" CHAPTER XII CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE Interest was beginning to thicken: the people in court, from Simon Crood, pompous and aloof in his new grandeur of chief magistrate, to Spizey the bellman, equally pompous in his ancient livery, were already open-mouthed with wonder at the new and startling development. But the sudden advent of the young and pretty domestic, whose tears betrayed her unwillingness to come forward, deepened the interest still further; everybody leaned forward towards the centre of the court, intent on hearing what the girl had to tell. She, however, paid no attention to these manifestations of inquisitiveness; standing in the witness-box, a tear-soaked handkerchief in her hands, half-sullen, half-resentful of mouth and eye, she looked at nobody but the Coroner; her whole expression was that of a defenceless animal, pinned in a corner and watchful of its captor. But this time it was not the Coroner who put questions to the witness. There had been some whispering between him, Hawthwaite and Meeking, the barrister who represented the police authorities, and it was Meeking who turned to the girl and began to get her information from her by means of bland, suavely-expressed, half-suggesting interrogatories. Winifred Wilson; twenty years of age; housemaid at Dr. Wellesley's--been in the doctor's employ about fourteen months. "Did you give certain information to the police recently?" inquired Meeking, going straight to his point as soon as these preliminaries were over. "Information bearing on the matter now being inquired into?" "Yes, sir," replied the witness in a low voice. "Was it relating to something that you saw, in Dr. Wellesley's house, on the evening on which Mr. Wallingford was found dead in the Mayor's Parlour?" "Yes, sir." "What was it that you saw?" The girl hesitated. Evidently on the verge of a fresh outburst of tears, she compressed her nether lip, looking fixedly at the ledge of the witness-box. "Don't be afraid," said Meeking. "We only want the truth--tell that, and you've nothing to be afraid of, nor to reproach yourself with. Now what did you see?" The girl's answer came in a whisper. "I saw Dr. Wellesley!" "You saw your master, Dr. Wellesley. Where did you see Dr. Wellesley?" "On the hall staircase, sir."