‘I knew that I was to be the secretary.’ ‘So that, so far from your coming here as a pure, impartial, disinterested witness, as my friend would have had the jury believe, you----’ Here Alec leaned over the edge of the dock, caught the speaker by his gown, and whispered something energetically into his ear. ‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Mr. Corker, shaking off his client’s grasp. ‘Now, just listen to me, sir,’ he began. ‘My lord,’ said Alec, ‘I may say at once that Mr. Mackenzie is only telling the truth. I believe I _did_ read “five hundred thousand pounds.”’ There was a silence, then a murmur of astonishment. ‘You had better be quiet, and leave your case to your counsel,’ said the Judge in a stern voice. Mr. Corker had indignantly thrown down his brief; but a few words from the Judge persuaded him to take it up again. ‘Your lordship will excuse me for a few moments,’ he said, as he turned to consult with Mr. Beattie on the change which Alec’s interposition had rendered necessary in the defence. The defence had to be altered suddenly, at the critical moment. Mr. Corker’s intention had been to maintain that Mr. Lindsay had changed his mind, and had given private instructions to his nephew to prepare a will leaving only five thousand pounds to the Free Church. He had resolved to rely on Semple’s evidence to neutralize, or at least to weaken, the effect produced by Dr. Mackenzie’s statement. But the prisoner had just declared that Dr. Mackenzie had told the truth! It would be useless to put Semple in the box now. ‘Did you ever know of such a complete idiot?’ asked Mr. Corker in a whisper, as he leant over the desk before him to speak to Mr. Beattie. ‘What shall we do now? We must say it was an accident--absence of mind,’ whispered Beattie. ‘I may say it, but the jury won’t believe it for a moment. The other theory they _might_ have believed.’ ‘You have the legal argument still.’ ‘Yes; but the verdict is gone. However, I suppose we must go on.’ And Mr. Corker straightened himself up and fell back into his seat, with the air of a man who has been very ill-used. ‘Do you ask this witness any more questions, Mr. Corker?’ asked the Judge. ‘No, m’ lud,’ said Mr. Corker, without troubling himself to rise. ‘That is the case for the prosecution, my lord,’ said Mr. Collithorne. ‘Do you call any witnesses?’ he added to Mr. Corker. ‘No!’ ‘Then, may it please your lordship, gentlemen of the jury----’ ‘My lord, may I say a word?’ It was a woman’s voice. Laura Mowbray was standing up, pale and resolute, at the back of the court. ‘No; certainly not. Go on, Mr. Collithorne.’ ‘But I took the will myself, just before it was signed, from Mr. Lindsay’s bedroom.’