“Have you any questions to ask, Mr. Faradeane?” he said in a grave voice, and the crowded court remarked that he addressed the accused by his name instead of as “prisoner.” “No, my lord,” came the quiet reply. Lord Carfield’s brows came together. “Surely you must have some explanation to offer,” he said, just as he had said on the day of the murder. “Is it possible that you should fail to recognize the serious position in which you are placed?” Faradeane raised his sad eyes, in which, sad as they were, there was nothing of craven fear or imploration. “I fully appreciate my position, my lord,” he said, “and I regret that I have no explanation to offer.” Lord Carfield pushed his notes aside with a grave impatience. “Was there no one near the body excepting Mr. Faradeane?” he asked Browne. “No, my lord.” “You met no one? Think, and answer carefully. There was a large number of persons present at the Grange on that day; did you meet no one in the drive or in the wood?” “No, my lord. The folks were all on the lawn listening to the singing and speech-making in the tent. I met no one, till I fetched the constable.” Lord Carfield asked the same question of the constable, and received the same answer. No one had been seen in the wood or coming from it but the dead woman and the man Harold Faradeane, who stood so patiently and calmly waiting. “Has the murdered woman been identified?” asked Lord Carfield. “Is anything known about her? There should be some evidence of motive.” “The woman has been identified, my lord,” said the superintendent, entering the box. “Her name is Bella Lee, but she was known as Bella-Bella. She was a professional acrobat, and quite famous in London, my lord.” “And in what way do you connect Mr. Faradeane--the prisoner--with her? I cannot see----” He stopped. It was apparent that he was endeavoring to find any loophole for escape or explanation. The superintendent hesitated; then, catching the placid eye of Mr. McAndrew, replied: “Some information is in our possession, my lord; but we do not propose to produce it at this stage. We depend upon the evidence of the gamekeeper and constable.” “Our duty is clear,” said Lord Carfield, but with a reluctance which was distinctly palpable. “We must commit the prisoner for trial. Have you anything to say?” he asked. At this moment there was a slight disturbance among the closely-packed persons near the door, and Mr. Bartley Bradstone entered. He looked round him with the air of a man determined not to show nervousness, and then up at the face of the prisoner. Had he anything to say? Harold Faradeane glanced ever so slightly at Bartley Bradstone, then met Lord Carfield’s grave and troubled regard. “Nothing, my lord,” came the reply. “Remove the prisoner,” said Lord Carfield in a low voice, and Faradeane followed the policemen from the dock.