Making his way to the side of the dock, Jones addressed himself to Cashel in a low, cautious voice:-- “It now remains with you, Mr. Cashel, to decide whether you will intrust me with the facts on which you ground your innocence, or prefer to see yourself overwhelmed by adverse testimony.” Cashel made no reply, but leaned his head on his hand in deep thought “Have you any witnesses to call?” whispered Jones. “Shall we try an _alibi?_” Cashel did not answer. “What is your defence, sir, in one word?” asked Jones, shortly. “I am not guilty,” said Cashel, slowly; “but I do not expect others to believe me so.” “Is your defence to rest upon that bare assertion?” asked the lawyer; but Roland did not seem to heed the question, as, folding his arms, he stood erect in the dock, his attention to all appearance bestowed upon the ceremonial of the court. Jones, at once turning to the Bench, expressed his regret that, neither being able, from the shortness of the time, to obtain proper information on the case, nor being honored by the confidence of the accused, he must decline the task of commenting on the evidence; and would only entreat the jury to weigh the testimony they had heard with a merciful disposition, and wherever discrepancies and doubts occurred, to give the full benefit of such to the prisoner. “You have no witnesses to call?” asked the judge. “I am told there are none, my Lord,” said Jones, with an accent of resignation. A brief colloquy, in a low voice, ensued between the Crown lawyers and Clare Jones, when, at length, a well-known barrister rose to address the jury for the prosecution. The gentleman who now claimed the attention of the Court was one who, not possessing either the patient habits of study, or that minute attention to technical detail which constitute the legal mind, was a fluent, easy speaker, with an excellent memory, and a thorough knowledge of the stamp and temperament of the men that usually fill a jury-box. He was eminently popular with that class, on whom he had often bestowed all the flatteries of his craft; assuring them that their “order” was the bone and sinew of the land, and that “our proudest boast as a nation was in the untitled nobility of commerce.” His whole address on the present occasion tended to show that the murder of Mr. Kennyfeck was one among the many instances of the unbridled license and tyranny assumed by the aristocracy over the middle ranks.