Public interest in the case had not diminished overnight. Already the early street crowd numbered hundreds. On the great staircase, on the wide landing, folks seethed and jostled. The packed court-room itself--as the dignified figures of Mr. Justice Heber and his accompanying big-wigs took their seats---was a lake of straining faces. Immediately Brunton rose to examine his next witness; a tall black-mustached, black-haired type with flashy rings and a flashy tie-pin, who answered to the name of John Hodges. He was a book-maker, John Hodges told the court. He had known Bill Towers for many years--long before he married. He had often heard the dead man speak of his wife. The dead man had been very fond of his wife; but the affection, according to Hodges, had not been reciprocated. Question and answer flowed on. But to Ronnie, waiting anxiously for Cartwright's return, it seemed as though Brunton must be ill. Twice the harsh voice missed the sequence of its questions. Twice Henry Smith-Assher had need to prompt his leader. And twice, as the examination neared its ending, the gray eyes under the "hanging prosecutor's" gray horsehair deserted their witness to stare, fascinated, at the woman in the dock. Lucy Towers, it seemed to Brunton, stared back at him with his wife's own brown unfathomable pupils. "You've known the accused ever since she married the deceased?" he asked his witness. "Has she ever spoken to you about her husband?" "Only once." "Can you remember what she said?" "Yes. She said that she wished she'd never married him." "When was that?" "Some time in June." "Can't you fix the exact date?" "No, not the exact date. It was somewhere about the end of June, I think." "Thank you." Heavily Hector Brunton sat down. All night the face of the woman in the dock had haunted him. And now, now the still, small voice of conscience was whispering again. "Cruel," whispered the voice; "cruel." But the sight of Cavendish, rising to cross-examine, silenced the voice of conscience, brought back the suspicion that Cavendish held some card, some trump-card, up his sleeve. And "Even if he gets the charge reduced to manslaughter," thought Brunton, "she'll do time. She won't be able to trouble me for years. Say seven years." "Mr. Hodges"--Ronnie's voice recalled his enemy to the actualities,--"when the accused made this statement to you, were there any other people present?" "Yes." "Will you please tell his lordship and the jury who else was present." "Bill Towers, of course." "Why 'of course'?" "Well, naturally he wouldn't leave another man alone with his wife." "He was jealous of her, eh?" "Jealous!" The rings flashed. "I should just about say he was jealous." "Ah!"--Ronnie's coins jingled--"and did this jealous husband make any comment on his wife's remark?" "No." "Wasn't that rather curious? Now tell me, did you gather, from the way you allege the accused spoke, that she meant her statement seriously?"