Laura’s good angel had triumphed. Till the last moment she had been declaring that she dared not tell what she knew--besides, it would be of no use. But in a moment, when Alec’s counsel had declared that he had no witnesses, and she felt that the last moment for speech had come, she had, without deliberation, yielded to the impulse which bade her speak. Meanwhile Mr. Collithorne and Mr. Corker were both busily disowning this disconcerting witness, and suggesting that she should not be heard. But the Judge took a different view of the matter. If anyone had touched the will, he remarked, between the time when the prisoner read it to the testator and the time when it was signed, that was clearly very important. He thought the ends of justice required that the young lady should be heard. ‘I don’t see that calling her can injure the defendant,’ he said by way of apology to Mr. Corker. That gentleman grunted and said nothing. Laura was piloted to the witness-box by an usher, and in a few clear words she told how she had at Semple’s request taken the will from her uncle’s room, and had given it to him to read. ‘Did he do anything to it, while it was in his hands?’ asked the Judge. ‘No.’ ‘And you never allowed it to go out of your sight?’ Laura hesitated. ‘He took it to the window to read it, and I was standing by the door. I don’t think he did anything to it. There was not time.’ ‘As he walked to the window, had he his side or his back to you?’ ‘He would have his back to me. But I don’t think I was looking at him then. I don’t exactly remember.’ ‘Well, Miss--Miss Mowbray, have you mentioned this to anyone before to-day?’ ‘No, my lord.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘I did not wish it to be known, if possible, that I had meddled with the will at all,’ said the girl in a low voice. ‘And I remember, too,’ she added, ‘that one night just after Mr. Lindsay died, I was at a railway-station; and I saw Mr. James Semple there, with a gentleman I do not know. And the gentleman said to him----’ But here the Judge, Mr. Collithorne, and Mr. Corker, interposed in chorus; and Laura, thoroughly disconcerted, stopped and almost burst into tears. ‘That will do,’ said the Judge, in a kindly tone. ‘You were quite right to speak now; but you ought to have spoken sooner.’ So Laura turned away, and crept back to her seat, disappointed and humiliated. She had made the sacrifice, and all for nothing! She had been prevented telling what she considered the most important part of her story. In her agitation she had forgotten to speak of the incident of the paper which Semple had managed to obtain from his uncle’s desk. But, as she reflected, she would probably not have been allowed to mention it, as she could not say that she knew it had anything to do with the will. She had expected that her testimony would cause Alec to be set at liberty. It had produced no effect whatever, beyond covering her with shame.