The prisoner's counsel here hurriedly turned over the pages of his
brief till he came to a certain place, where he made a note in the
margin.
'What did you hear next?'
'I heard the prisoner going downstairs.'
The Judge: 'What do you mean? Could you see her?'
Witness: 'No, sir. I heard her.'
Mr. Pollard: 'She means she recognised the footsteps, my lord.'
The Judge: 'Don't interrupt me, please.' (_To witness_) 'Young woman,
be careful. That is not the way to give evidence, as you know
perfectly well. You mustn't tell us that you heard the prisoner. You
heard footsteps; that's all.' (_A pause._) 'Now, Mr. Pollard, you can
go on.'
Mr. Pollard: 'Did you recognise the footsteps?'
His lordship frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
Witness: 'I thought it was Miss Owen.'
Mr. Pollard: 'Well, now tell us what you did.'
The girl proceeded to describe how she had got up and gone down to the
front-door.
'How was it fastened?' was the next question.
'It was on the latch. The bolts were drawn back, and it wasn't locked
nor yet chained.'
'Did you see whether the latch was up or down?'
'I object!'
Mr. Tressamer had risen in a fresh burst of indignation.
'My lord, my friend has distinctly suggested the answer to the
witness. I object to her being allowed to say anything about the latch
after such a question as that.'
'I didn't intend to lead her, my lord,' said Pollard.
The judge hesitated for awhile between his natural desire to hear the
answer and his fear that the witness was not wholly impartial. Perhaps
a slight prejudice against Tressamer's hectoring manner had something
to do with his decision.
'You should have asked her whether she noticed anything about the
latch,' he said at length. 'Did you?' he added, turning to the
witness.
'It was _down_, sir,' she returned, answering Pollard's question
rather than the judge's.
The importance of the answer was chiefly in its disposing of
Tressamer's suggestion that the butler might have forced the latch up.
He turned round to the jury, and assumed the air of one who is being
unfairly treated. But of course he could not help their seeing that
the prosecution had scored a point.
Rebecca's evidence was continued till she came to where she heard
footsteps ascending the stairs.
'How long was this afterwards?' asked Pollard.
'About ten minutes,'
'Did you recognise those footsteps?'
'No, I didn't notice them; but I think they must have been Miss
Owen's, or else I should have noticed the difference.'
Tressamer ground his teeth. He was afraid to interrupt again, for fear
of the effect on the minds of the jury. They are apt to think a man is
losing when he interrupts too often.
'What happened next?'
'She went into the bedroom below.'
'What bedroom?'
'Her own, I suppose, or Miss Lewis's.'
'You couldn't tell which?'
'No.'
'Well, and how long was the person, whoever it was, inside?'
'About a quarter of an hour, I should think. I thought she had come in
for good, and gone to bed.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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