“Nothing, I believe. The state of confusion that prevailed; the terror that pervaded every side, the dreadful scenes enacting around us,--prevented our following up the matter with all the foresight which might be desired.” “And, in fact, you sought relief from the unsettled distraction of your thoughts, by fixing the crime upon some one--even though he should prove, of all assembled there, the least likely.” “We did not attach anything to Mr. Cashel's disfavor until we discovered that he was in his dressing-room, and in the manner already stated.” “But you certainly jumped to your conclusion by a sudden bound?” “It would be fairer to say that our thoughts converged to the same impression at the same time.” “Where is this Mr. Linton? Is he among the list of your witnesses, Mr. Attorney?” “No, we have not called him.” “I thought as much!” said Jones, sneeringly; “and yet the omission is singular, of one whose name is so frequently mixed up in these proceedings. He might prove an inconvenient witness.” A slight murmur here ran through the court; and a gentleman, advancing to the bar, whispered some words to the Attorney-General, who, rising, said:-- “My Lord, I am just this instant informed that Mr. Linton is dangerously ill of fever at his house near Dublin. My informant adds, that no hopes are entertained of his recovery.” “Was he indisposed at the period in which my learned friend drew up this case? or was there any intention of summoning him here for examination?” asked Jones. “We did not require Mr. Linton's testimony,” replied the Attorney-General. “It can scarcely be inferred that we feared it,” said a junior barrister, “since the first palpable evidences that implicated the prisoner were discovered by Mr. Linton: the wadding of the pistol; part of a letter in Mr. Cashel's own handwriting; and the tracks corresponding with his boots.” “This is all most irregular, my Lord,” broke in Jones, eagerly. “Here are statements thrown out in all the loose carelessness of conversation, totally unsupported by evidence. I submit that it is impossible to offer a defence to a cause conducted in this manner.” “You are quite right, Mr. Jones; this is not evidence.” “But this is, my Lord!” said the Attorney-General, in a heated manner; “and for motives of delicacy we might not have used it, if not driven to this course by the insinuations of counsel. Here is a note in pencil, dated from the 'Pass of Ennismore,' and running thus: 'It looks badly; but I fear you have no other course than to arrest him. In fact, it is too late for anything else. Consult Malone and Meek.' And this can be proved to be in Mr. Linton's handwriting.” Mr. Clare Jones did not speak a word as the note was handed up to the Bench, and then to the jury-box; he even affected to think it of no importance, and did not deign to examine it for himself. “You may go down, Mr. Goring,” said he, after a slight pause, in which he appeared deliberating what course to follow.