Barton also produced the Oriental silver cigarette-case, the instrument of his cheating at baccarat, which Cranley had left in the club on the evening of his detection. He showed that the case had contained a small crystal receptacle, intended to hold opium. This crystal had been broken by Cranley when he dashed down the case, in the office of Martin and Wright. But crumbs of the poison--“Woorali,” or “Ourali”--perfectly dry, remained in this réceptacle. It was thus clear that Cranley, himself a great traveller, was possessed of the rare and perilous drug. The medical evidence having been heard, and confirmed in its general bearing by various experts, and Barton having stood the test of a severe cross-examination, William Winter was called. There was a flutter in the Court, as a pale and partly paralyzed man was borne in on a kind of litter, and accommodated in the witness-box. “Where were you,” asked the counsel for the prosecution, when the officer had sworn the witness, “at eleven o’clock on the night of February 7th?” “I was on the roof of the _Hit or Miss_ tavern.” “On which part of the roof?” “On the ledge below the dormer window at the back part of the house, facing the waste ground behind the plank fence.” “Will you tell the Court what you saw while you were in that position?” Winter’s face was flushed with excitement; but his voice, though thin, was clear as he said: “There was a light streaming through the dormer window beside which I was lying, and I looked in.” “What did you see?” “I saw a small room, with a large fire, a table, on which were bottles and glasses, and two men, one seated, the other standing.” “Would you recognize either man if you saw him?” “I recognize the man who was seated, in the prisoner at the bar; but at that time he wore a beard.” “Tell the Court what happened.” “The men were facing me. One of them--the prisoner--was naked to the waist. His breast was tattooed. The other--the man who stood up--was touching him with a needle, which he applied, again and again, to a saucer on the table.” “Could you hear what they said?” “I could; for the catch of the lattice window had not caught, and there was a slight chink open.” “You listened?” “I could not help it; the scene was so strange. I heard the man with the needle give a sigh of relief, and say, ‘There, it’s finished, and a pretty job too, though I say it.’ The other said, ‘You have done it beautifully, Dicky; it’s a most interesting art. Now, just out of curiosity, let _me_ tattoo _you_ a bit.’ The other man laughed, and took off his coat and shirt while the other dressed. ‘There’s scarce an inch of me plain,’ he said, ‘but you can try your hand here,’ pointing to the lower part of his shoulder.” “What happened then?”