He laughed again; I think he would have purred if he had been able. "Shall I tell you," he said, "what I would say if I were defending Karelsky in an action brought against him by Terry?" He paused for a moment, and then, with gleaming eyes and the old professional note in his voice, continued: "Gentlemen of the Jury,--my client is a scientist of world-wide reputation. His honour is assailed by a man of whom none of you, I am sure, have ever heard before. Let me tell you something about him. He was formerly in the employ of my client. After being granted full access to all the privacies of the Professor's laboratories, he left suddenly, breaking his signed contract and leaving behind him not even a word of explanation. Since then he has done no work of any kind, but has been content to live mainly on the charity of friends.... And this is the man who, according to the prosecution, has made a discovery to rank with those of Kelvin and Lister!" "There are the note-books and papers to prove it," I interjected sharply. "Ah yes--the so-called evidence of the prosecution. Gentlemen of the Jury--what is it you are asked to believe from this _evidence_? I will tell you. That this man--a failure--penniless--unemployed--an unsuccessful applicant for dozens of jobs in all parts of the world--that this man kept in his possession a secret which any day, if he had disclosed it, would have made his pocket full and his name world-famous! ... No, gentlemen, the idea is _too_ absurd. I suggest that this action is entirely malicious. I suggest that it is the plaintiff, and not his illustrious employer, who did the thieving. I suggest that while the plaintiff was in Karelsky's employ in Vienna he made copies of his employer's private records, and then, nearly a year later, when he read Karelsky's speech, realized the significance and the possible value of them.... It was a silly, futile scheme, my friends, but was it not the sort of one that a man of good education, crazed by failure and disappointment, might devise?" "This is absolutely monstrous!" I protested. "Do you really mean that the truth could be so diabolically twisted round----" "The truth," he interrupted cheerfully, "can always be diabolically twisted round, or how else would lawyers get their living? ... Mind you, I'm only telling you the particular twist that _I_ should give it if _I_ were handling the case.... As a matter of fact, there are one or two points in Terry's favour." "You do think that?" "Oh, yes. There's his breakdown in health, and the rather shabby way Karelsky treated him about his money--we should require evidence from your friend Mizzi about that.... And then there's Karelsky's general reputation, which isn't too high amongst the sort of people who don't believe all they read in the newspapers. And of course he's a Russian-born Jew naturalized an Austrian--that can always be made to sound rather terrible to a jury...." "And the note-books and papers--wouldn't they count?"