All the _élite_ of the county had crowded to the trial. Loadstone had never been so full; the hotels could not hold half the number who flocked to hear Claude Lennox tried. There were no more lodgings to be had for love or money. It was not only the county people who testified their interest. Claude Lennox was well-known, and had been courted, popular, and eagerly _fêted_ in London drawing-rooms. Many of his old friends, members of his club came to see him tried. It was an unusual case because of the rank, wealth, and position of the accused--Claude Lennox, the idol of London coteries, the Adonis of the clubs, the heir of grand, exclusive Colonel Lennox. Then the murder seemed so utterly motiveless. The young man swore most solemnly that he knew nothing of the deceased--that she was a stranger whom he had relieved. The handkerchief found upon her he said was his, and that it had been given from motives of charity, to bind her bruised hand. The address on the scrap of paper he admitted was in his own writing--he had given it to her, hoping that either his mother or his aunt would be able to find her work. More than that he refused to say. He refused to account for his time--to say where he had been that night--to make any attempt to prove an _alibi_. He was asked who was his companion at Oakton station, and he refused to answer. His lawyer was in despair. The able counsel whom his distracted mother had sent to his assistance declared themselves completely nonplussed. "Tell us how you passed the night," they had said, "so that we may know what line of defense to adopt." "I cannot," he replied. "I swear most solemnly that I know nothing of the murder. More than that I cannot say." "It is probable you may pay for your obstinacy with your life," said Sergeant Burton, one of the shrewdest lawyers in England. "There are things more painful than death," Claude replied, calmly; and then the sergeant clapped his hands. "There is a woman in the case," he said--"I am sure of it." Sergeant Burton and Mr. Landon were retained as counsel for Claude; but never were counsel more hopeless about their case than they. They could call no witnesses in Claude's favor--they did not know whom to call. "He will lose his life," said Mr. Landon, with a groan. "What infatuation! What folly! It strikes me he could clear himself if he would."