"I did it to save Bob!" Those words still echoed in the barrister's ears as he emerged from the gloom of Temple station into sunlight, and turned down the Embankment toward his chambers, where--Bunce, brief and witnesses for the defense being already on their way to the court--John Cartwright alone awaited him. The solicitor was in his gloomiest mood, thoroughly convinced of Lucy's guilt. "Unless Brunton fails on the issue of premeditation," he said, "we haven't got a dog's chance. Even if he does fail on that point, she'll get seven years." At that, poignantly, the human element of the case came home to Ronnie. It seemed to him as though he saw Aliette's self imprisoned, beating out her heart--day after day, month after month, year after year--against the cold walls and the cold bars of a prison-house. "Not if I can help it," he said hotly. "Have you decided to put her in the box? H. B.'s a holy terror for cross-examination." "Of course I shall put her in the box. I'm not afraid of H. B.! Let's be off." John Cartwright--thinking the tactics hopeless--would have protested; but, realizing from the other's demeanor how much this case meant to him, realizing (Ronnie's matrimonial position was common gossip in the offices of Wilberforce, Wilberforce & Cartwright) more than a little of the secret drama which underlay the public, he kept his own counsel all the way to the Old Bailey. "At any rate," thought John Cartwright, "Standon will get the show he's paying for." It was fifteen minutes to ten by the time their car made Holborn; ten to when it drew up at the door of the court. Already they could see the forerunners of a crowd. Public sympathy, astutely roused by Standon, had enlisted itself on the side of the accused and of her counsel. In any other country, the little knot of people would have cheered. As it was, they only stared sympathetically while the cameras clicked and the two men disappeared from view. "I'll see to the witnesses," said Cartwright, as the lift jerked them to the first floor. "You go and get dressed." In the robing-room Ronnie found Hugh Spillcroft. "I'm at a loose end," said that genial youth, "so I've come to watch the show. Going to win?" "If I can," retorted Ronald grimly. "But it's going to be a devil of a job." They passed out of the robing-room, and threaded their way across the crowded landing toward No. 2 court. By the outer door, its oak and glass guarded by two enormous constables, stood Bob Fielding and various other witnesses. The young sailor's face was gray. His whole body, even the two empty sleeves of the shabby coat, twitched. "You'll do your best for her, sir?" he stammered. "You'll do your best for Lucy?"