"You would, Tom, because it is the truth; and if I am on the right tack, only the truth will serve us. Now, although you were not in court during the whole of the trial, you read the report of it in the papers?" "I did, sir." "Clear your mind, Tom, and bend it on what I am about to ask you. In reading the report of the trial, did anything particular strike you?" "It was full of lies, sir." "I am sure of that. But anything very special"--and here Garden's voice trembled slightly, as though he were approaching a crucial test--"say as to the colour of dresses? Think, Tom." "No occasion to think, sir. What they said about Mrs. Pamflett's dresses was a pack of lies from beginning to end." "How is that, Tom?" asked Garden, rising and moving a step nearer to Tom Barley. "Why, sir, wasn't it said that Mrs. Pamflett hated blue dresses, and never wore one." "They did, Tom." "Damned lies, sir! Why didn't they ask _me_ about that? I ought to know, living at Parksides the years I did. I've seen her hundreds and hundreds of times in a blue dress." Garden caught Fred's hand. "You are ready to swear that?" "Ready, sir? Yes; and it's the truth--by God!" A look of triumph flashed into Garden's eyes, and his face was radiant. "I'm on the right tack, Fred," he cried; "Miss Farebrother is saved!" On the evening of that day Richard Garden and Fred Cornwall met Kiss by appointment. The kind-hearted actor had news of vital importance to give them. Mrs. Pamflett and Jeremiah were still at No. 12 Surrey Street and had not stirred out the whole of the day.