'Catharine Lawless!' Thrice was her name called outside of the court, as
by law directed. As the echo of the last summons died away, a tall woman
closely veiled issued from a side door and walked composedly over to the
witness-box. Every eye was directed towards her; no sound was audible,
save some involuntary exclamation as the most sensational character of
the _corps dramatique_ appeared on the stage. Quietly and becomingly
dressed, _bien gantée_ and in all respects accurately finished as to
each personal detail, she moved forward with an air of haughty
indifference to her surroundings, including the court, prisoners, and
spectators. These last might have deemed that she was some interesting
stranger, an eye-witness by chance of deeds concerning which she was
compelled to testify.
'Swear the witness,' said the magistrate, as the book was placed in her
right hand, 'and will she be pleased to remove her veil?'
Thus admonished, the girl threw back her veil with a half-petulant
gesture, and touching the sacred book lightly with her lips, as the
solemn formula was recited, gazed around the court with an air of
insouciance apparently as unstudied and natural as if she had come
direct from Arcadia.
For one moment her clear gray eyes, unheeding every other creature in
the crowd of spectators, rested on the two men in the dock. Those who
knew her--and there were many such in the congregation--looked eagerly
for some softened expression, some sign of regret, as might any woman
wear when beholding her lover and her brother in the place set apart for
felons, who knew them to be charged with a serious offence, and liable
to years of degrading imprisonment, from which, perchance, a word from
her lips might save one--might even alleviate their lot--so great is the
sympathy felt for the power exercised by a handsome woman, even in the
temple of justice.
Those who thus reasoned were doomed to disappointment. Her gaze passed
coldly over her brother's lounging form and tranquil features, but when
she encountered the stern interrogation which was written on the
frowning brow and set lips of Lance Trevanion, she drew back for an
instant, and then slightly raising her head and drawing herself up, an
action which displayed to perfection the symmetrical moulding of her
figure, returned his regard with a glance as fierce and unfaltering as
his own. For one moment only did the mental duel appear to last, for one
moment was each antagonistic electric current propelled along the mutual
course. Then, with an impatient gesture, she turned half round and
awaited the official questioning.
The oppressive silence which up to that moment had pervaded the court
ceased, as by a broken spell, and comments were audible to those
immediately around the speaker, more than one of which went as follows--
'She's going to swear up, you bet your life. Never saw a woman look like
her that didn't. Sooner have her on my side than against me, that's all
_I_ know.'
'Dayrell's been working a point to set her against him, that's where
he'll score the odd trick, you'll see,' observed his equally philosophic
friend. 'She's been dead nuts on that new chum, that's why she's
thirsting for his blood now. I think I knows 'em.'
'What is your name?' commenced the sergeant, who in the preliminary
examination was, as the police officer in charge of the case, permitted
to officiate in Courts of Petty Sessions as Acting Crown Prosecutor.
'Catharine Lawless.' This answer was given in a low but distinct voice.
'You are the sister of Edward Lawless, one of the prisoners now before
the Court; and you have been residing with him at Balooka, and recently
at Growlers' Gully?'
'Yes. We have all been living with him since father died.'
'Just so. And you know the other prisoner, Launcelot Trevanion?' Here
the sergeant feigned to examine his notebook, ostensibly to refresh his
memory, but really in order to afford witness and prisoner opportunity
to look at each other. Also that the court, the spectators, the
magistrate, and lastly he, Francis Dayrell, might appreciate their
mutual discomfort.
This Mephistophelian design was set at naught by the self-possession of
the witness, who after one glance, brief as the jagged lightning and as
scathing, answered deliberately--'Yes, I do know Lance Trevanion, _I
know him well_.'
There was not much in this apparently harmless Saxon sentence, chiefly
monosyllabic, but those who were close enough to hear the last words
thrilled for long days after as they recalled the concentrated venom
with which they were saturated.
'When you say you know the prisoner, Trevanion, well,' queried Dayrell,
with an air of respectful interest, 'you mean, I suppose, that he was a
great friend of your brothers, and of the family generally. Your brother
Dan, your cousin Harry, and his sister Tessie--you are rather a large
family, I believe--were all friendly towards him, as he to you?'
'Yes; very friendly; we all thought no end of him.'
'Of course, of course; most natural on your part and his. He was often
at your camp, at Growlers'. Used to play a game or two of cards
sometimes with your brothers--a little euchre--eh?'
'Yes; I believe so.'
'You believe so? Don't you know it, Miss Lawless? Were not the stakes
rather heavy sometimes?'
'They may have been. I never played for money. The boys may have had a
gamble now and then.'
'Really, your worship,' interposed Mr. England, 'I can't see what these
trivialities have to do with the case. The witness is an extremely
prepossessing young woman--outwardly. We admit at once that she
exercised a certain fascination over my client. Why shouldn't she? _Nemo
omnibus horis sapit, etc._, particularly on the diggings. But the
sergeant, apparently, will proceed to ask her if she ever sewed on a
button for my client, and I appeal to your worship, if we are to sit
here all day and listen to this mode of examination?'
'I must ask your worship's permission to conduct the case in my own
way,' returned the sergeant. 'I guarantee that these apparently trivial
details are of material importance to the case.'
'You may proceed, Sergeant Dayrell. I trust to you not to encumber the
depositions with needless details.'
'I shall bear in mind your worship's directions; and now, Miss Lawless,
please to attend to me, and be careful in answering the next question.'
Here he fixed his eyes meaningly upon her countenance.
'You remember the evening of Monday, the 23d of this month, when I saw
you ride into your brother's camp at Balooka, in company with the
prisoner, Trevanion?'
'Yes; I do.'
'Had he been with you and Ned at Balooka for some time previously?'
There was a pause after the sergeant's measured and distinct words
sounded through the court, and the witness trembled slightly when they
first reached her ear. Then she raised her head, looked full at the two
prisoners in the dock, and answered--
'Yes; he had.'
As the words left her lips, the face of Lance Trevanion worked like that
of a man about to fall down in a fit. His eyes blazed with wrath and
unrestrained passion. Wonder and scorn, anger and despair, struggled
together in every feature, as if in a stage of demoniac possession.
Placing his strong hand upon the rail of the dock, he shook the stout
structure until it swayed and rattled again.
'You lie, traitress!' he said, in vibrating tones. 'I never saw Balooka
before that evening, and you know it. Your words--like yourself--are
false as hell!'
'I submit, your worship, that the witness must be protected,' Dayrell
made haste to interpose. 'If she is to be intimidated, I cannot
guarantee her most important evidence.'
A curious phase of human nature is it,--well worthy of the attention of
physiologists, but none the less known to those in the habit of
attending criminal courts,--that you may with tolerable certainty detect
a man deliberately swearing falsely when giving evidence on oath.
Villain as he may be,--scoundrel of the deepest dye,--even _he_ does not
altogether enjoy the sensation of, in cold blood, committing perjury
before a crowd of comrades, every one of whom knows that he is
forswearing himself. Thus feeling, there is generally some token of
uneasiness or shamefacedness by which the experienced magistrate or
judge, and most certainly his friends and fellows, can perceive his
perjury.
But, strange and mysterious as it may seem, _it is not so_ in the case
of a female witness. She may be deposing to the truth of the most
atrocious falsehood, to what the greater part of her hearers, as well as
herself, _know to be false_, and not the quiver of an eyelid nor the
tremor of a muscle reveals that she has called upon the Supreme Being
to witness her deliberate betrayal of the truth. For all that can be
discerned in the countenance--in her mien and manner she may be clinging
to the truth with the constancy of a martyr.
There was a murmur in the court from more than one voice as Lance
Trevanion's heart-felt exclamation burst forth. This being promptly
suppressed, the magistrate, with a more sympathetic tone of voice than
he had as yet used, 'requested the prisoner not to injure his case by
intemperate language. Possibly the outburst of conscious innocence, the
Bench admitted, but he would warn him, in his own interest, to reserve
his defence till the evidence was completed.' Lance apparently saw the
force of his argument, for after one withering glance at the
witness-box, he bowed his head without speaking, and resigned himself
apparently to listen unmoved to all further statements.
'Did you--now consider carefully and _make no mistake_'--here the
sergeant fixed his eye sternly, even menacingly, upon the girl, who
stood calm and resolved before him--'did you know of your own knowledge
that the prisoner, Trevanion, met your brother Ned at the Swampy Plain
tableland and assisted him to drive certain horses into the yard?'
The girl looked again across to the figures in the dock, neither of whom
apparently saw her, as they, by accident or otherwise, had averted their
faces. Then a mysterious darksome look of pride and revenge came over
Kate Lawless's face as she coolly scrutinised them both. Slowly she
answered--
'Yes; I was at home when he and Ned came in from Swampy Plains with ten
horses and put them into the yard.'
'You swear that?'
'Yes,' looking her interlocutor full in the face. 'Yes, I swear that.'
Her face as she pronounced the words grew fixed and more intense of
expression. She changed colour, then gasped for breath, staggered, and
before any man near her was quick enough to intercept her swaying form,
fell, as one dead, her full length upon the floor.
'The strain has been too great for her, she has fainted,' said the
sergeant. 'The witness is unable to bear further cross-examination at
present. Your worship must see that. I pray for a remand of the
prisoners, and will undertake that the witness appears to-morrow at ten
o'clock and submits herself to the cross-examination.'
'No doubt,' said the magistrate, 'the position is most distressing, but
I shouldn't have expected Miss Lawless to faint on any occasion.
However, she is certainly not in a state to bear more of the witness-box
to-day. The prisoners stand remanded till to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock.'
The unwilling crowd gradually left the building, when much various
comment arose as to the guilt or otherwise of the accused.
'Wait till England gets at that Kate Lawless,' said a digger, 'he'll
turn her inside out. I don't believe half of what she says. She's gone
back on Trevanion for some reason or other; now she'd hang him if she
could. That's a woman all over.'
'Serve him right for havin' no more sense than to go runnin' after a
bush filly like her instead of minding his business. It'll learn him
better if he gets lagged over the job; it looks bad for him, now, don't
it?'
'It's dashed hard lines, I say,' answered his mate, 'that a fellow
should get jugged just for a bit of foolishness-like, as none of us are
above now and then. I'll never believe he knew that bay horse wasn't
square, and it'll be a burning shame if he gets into it.'
* * * * *
The day and the hour arrived. Again the crowded court--friends, foes,
strangers, and acquaintances, all were there. Lance's friends from
Growlers' mustered in force--Mr. Stirling, Jack Polwarth, Mrs. Polwarth,
and poor Tottie, who stretched forth her little hands with a piteous
gesture and then burst into tears as she saw her friend Lance placed in
the dock and shut in. The crowd was visibly affected by this little
incident, and more than one woman's tears flowed in unison with Mrs.
Polwarth's, who bent her head down and sobbed unrestrainedly. When Kate
Lawless, pale but composed, appeared and took her place in the
witness-box a menacing murmur ran through the crowd, and sounds
ominously like hisses made themselves audible. These were quickly
repressed as Mr. England, stepping forward, commenced his
cross-examination.
Fixing his eyes searchingly upon the girl's defiant face, he thus
began--
'You said, I think, in your examination in chief that you knew the
prisoner, Trevanion, well?'
'Yes; so I did.'
'Now, when you say you knew him well, do you mean us to believe that you
were only ordinary friends and no more?'
'I mean what I said; we were very friendly--all the time we were at
Growlers'.'
'That's all very well, but I must have more. You know something of life,
Miss Lawless, though you've lived in the bush all your days. Now didn't
this unfortunate young gentleman make love to you?'
'Well, I suppose he did.'
'And you returned it, or gave him to understand that you did?'
'I did like him very much. There was no reason why I shouldn't, was
there?' Here Miss Kate looked coolly at the barrister, who, trained
gladiator as he was, doubted whether he had ever had to deal with a
keener antagonist.
'I am not here to answer questions,' he said, very gravely. 'You are to
reply to mine, as his worship will tell you.'
'Then I am to understand that you and he considered yourselves
sweethearts (as the familiar expression goes) when you were at
Growlers'?'
'Yes, and afterwards.'
'And you have had no quarrel or misunderstanding?'
'No; none at all.'
'You wish his worship to believe that?' said the barrister, in sterner
tones. 'To believe that you come here prepared to swear at the dictation
of Sergeant Dayrell everything that he puts into your mouth which can
tell against this unfortunate young man--your sweetheart, as you have
admitted?'
'I don't care whether you believe it or not. It's the truth.'
'And your feelings have not changed towards him? Will you swear that?'
The girl hesitated. Her face flushed, then paled, her bosom heaved. She
placed her hand upon her heart as if to still its beatings.
'No,' she answered, with a changed voice; 'I won't swear that.'
'Thank you, Miss Lawless. I will not trouble you with further
questioning. That admission gives the key to the more important points
of your evidence.'
As the girl moved back from the witness-box she was stopped by one of
the constables and requested to sign her deposition. It was noticeable
then that her hand trembled so that she could hardly hold the pen. She
made this an excuse for requesting the clerk to write her name, to which
she affixed her mark, as in such case made and provided.
The case for the Crown being closed, Mr. England proceeded to call the
witnesses for the defence. The first name was that of Charles Stirling.
He came forward with a firm, confident air, tempered with respect to the
court. Placed in the witness-box, his evidence was to this effect--
'My name--Charles Stirling, manager of the Growlers' Gully branch of the
Australian Joint-Stock Bank. Have known the prisoner, Trevanion,
intimately since his occupation of Number Six claim. Have a high opinion
of him as a man of honour and a gentleman. Remember him purchasing the
bay horse now proved to have been stolen from Mr. Jeffreys. Was
consulted as to the purchase. Advised him then to be careful about
Lawless's receipt, and to satisfy himself from whom he (Lawless) had
purchased the animal. Trevanion was unwilling to believe anything
against the Lawless family, and was not a man to be guided by others. As
far as he knew, he was scrupulously upright and honourable. He
(Stirling) was never so surprised at anything in his whole life as when
he heard that Trevanion was in the hands of the police. There must be a
mistake somewhere. Prisoner had a large balance to his credit in the
Joint-Stock Bank. There could be no motive for saving a paltry fifty
pounds by purchasing a stolen horse. If it was sworn that Trevanion had
been seen at Balooka on the 19th September or previously, that statement
was false, as on that day he had been all the morning at the Joint-Stock
Bank disposing of a parcel of gold, seeing it weighed, and the money
placed to credit.'
Cross-examined by Sergeant Dayrell: 'He was as certain that Trevanion
was at his bank at Growlers' on Thursday as that he himself was at court
now. Any one who swore otherwise was deceived, or else had reasons of
their own for committing perjury. He did not intend to be other than
respectful to the court, but felt so strongly in this matter that he
could scarcely control his words. Was not aware, of his own knowledge,
that Trevanion was in the habit of gambling with the Lawlesses for heavy
stakes. May have heard something of the sort. Most of the young men at
the diggings played a little; it afforded a relief to the monotony of
their lives, and they (as far as he knew) never went very deeply into
it. Was a friend--he might say a particular friend--of prisoner's. He
and his mate, Mr. Polwarth, were customers of his bank. Neither had ever
owed his bank money, they were always depositors.'
John Polwarth, sworn: 'Was mate and partner in "Number Six, Growlers'"
with Mr. Trevanion. Had known him in England. Came out in the same ship.
Could swear that he never knew the horse "Pendragon" was stolen. He was
a gentleman, and couldn't steal a horse if he tried ever so hard; or buy
a stolen one, knowingly. He had been with Mr. Trevanion at the bank all
the morning of Thursday, 19th inst. Mr. Stirling was there, and a
clerk.'
'Was he sure it was him?'
'Was he sure the judge was on the Bench now?'
'How did he explain the fact of prisoner Trevanion being seen at Balooka
on Wednesday, 18th, and previously?'
'Only by believing it to be "a straight lie," or that the witness saw
some one very like Trevanion.'
'Very like Trevanion?'
'Very like.'
The witness appeared to be recalling something in his mind.
'Ar hev it noo, boys,' quoth he, suddenly looking towards the Bench, 'I
humbly beg your worship's pardon, but this terrible business has put
things out of my head like. I see how it's all come about. There was a
chap aboard the _Red Jacket_, about a year older than Mr. Trevanion
then, as like him as two peas. Danged if I doan't believe it's he as
have been riding about with Ned Lawless here, and all the while he's
been taken for Master Lance. The name of the man he meant was Lawrence
Trevenna; came from North Devon, he did, though he had a Cornish name.
Had never set eyes on him since the day they landed in Melbourne. Never
liked him; thought it was a case of good riddance of bad rubbish.
'Was a friend of Mr. Trevanion's; he wouldn't call him prisoner--not for
no man; any way he wasn't committed for trial yet; always would be a
friend--in gaol or out of it; but would not swear to a lie for him or
any other man--not if it was his own brother.'
Gwennyth Polwarth was then called, and up came the poor woman--sore
abashed and troubled--with Tottie clinging to her, and refusing to be
separated from her mother.
'Yes, she and her husband had come out with Mr. Lance. When in the _Red
Jacket_ had made it up to be mates. Mr. Trevanion, though he was a grand
gentleman at home, worked as hard in the claim as any man on the field;
would never believe that he had aught to do with a stolen horse. It was
that Ned Lawless there, and his bold gipsy of a sister. I say it to
their faces, as I have often warned him against, that's got him into
this trouble.'
'Could he have been at Balooka on Thursday, or Wednesday, 18th, as was
sworn by one witness?'
'Not unless he was a spirit. He came round to the claim, and said
"good-bye" to me and the child on _Thursday evening_; would swear that
to her dying day.'
'As to his being at Balooka, or any place a hundred miles off, it was a
thing impossible. There were people in the court as wanted to swear away
his life, any one could see. But there's Cousin Jacks enough at
Growlers' to smash the gaol and the court-house too, if these things are
to be carried on, and it would be seen yet (the witness said in her
excitement) what would come of it.'
'Sergeant Dayrell would ask the witness no questions. The Bench would
perceive the animus which coloured all the evidence.'
Mrs. Delf was next called. 'Her name was Mary Anne Delf; she had no call
to be ashamed of it, and was the wife of the landlord of the "Diggers'
Rest." Know that gentleman?' pointing to Lance. 'Well, he always stayed
at her house. Dined there with Mr. Stirling, Mr. Ross (of Bundalong
Station), and Mr. Polwarth, on Thursday, the 19th of September last.
Remembered the day particular, because there had been a wash-up at
"Number Six" the day before, and they had sold the gold to the bank, and
had it weighed and settled up for.
'Was she a friend of Mr. Trevanion's? Yes; and she was proud to say so.
It was a pity all his friends weren't as straight, though she said it
herself. But he was as innocent of all this duffing racket as Tottie
Polwarth there.'
Here poor Tottie, hearing her name, turned her eyes away from the dock,
where they had been resting sadly for a long time, and said audibly--
'Isn't Lance coming, mammy?'
This pathetic appeal, joined to a solitary glance from the prisoner,
proved too much for Mrs. Polwarth's self-possession, and, seizing Tottie
by the hand, she hurried from the court. Upon which Mrs. Delf, though
unused to the melting mood, had recourse to her handkerchief, and sobbed
aloud, as did various like-minded female sympathisers.
'Have you any other witnesses to call for the defence?' said the police
magistrate, addressing Mr. England, as who should say, the case has
lasted long enough.
'But one, your worship, but one. Call Esther Lawless.'
Again the densely packed assemblage was visibly moved. Here was another
of those Lawless girls; and what evidence was she going to give? Surely
an _alibi_ had been fully proved in Trevanion's favour already. What
could shatter the evidence of Mr. Stirling and Polwarth, Mrs. Delf and
Mrs. Polwarth? However, here she comes.
Tessie Lawless had not been so prominently before the public of
Growlers' as her cousin Kate, but, none the less, from the extreme
rarity of young and good-looking women at the earlier diggings, had she
been an object of curiosity and admiration. Hence she was well known by
sight and reputation, and her appearance in court was consequently of
the nature of a romantic incident.
'Your name is Esther Lawless, and you were residing with your cousins,
at Growlers', recently,' began Mr. England, with the suave deferential
manner by which counsel are won't to placate the feminine witness,
'where you knew the prisoner, Lance Trevanion?'
'Yes, certainly, I know Mr. Trevanion. He was often at our camp.'
'He was on friendly terms with all of you?'
'Yes; too much so for his own good.'
'Why do you say that, Miss Lawless?'
'Because my cousin Edward was not honest in his dealings, and I thought
Mr. Trevanion might be drawn in, unwarily, as he has been, I am sorry to
say.'
'Can you say anything as to the purchase of the bay H. J. horse, stated
to have been stolen from Mr. Herbert Jeffreys?'
'Yes; I wrote out the receipt which Edward gave Mr. Trevanion when he
bought the horse for fifty pounds from him. He was then described as
purchased from Henry Jones, of Black Dog Creek.'
'How did you come to write the receipt in your cousin's presence?'
Here the witness paused for an instant, as if hesitating what to answer.
Then she said, 'I was always in the habit of doing any writing that was
necessary.'
'But why? for what reason?' persisted Mr. England.
'_Because none of my cousins can read or write._'
As this announcement was made, evidently with reluctance, by the girl,
over whose ordinarily colourless countenance a flush rose as she spoke,
all eyes were turned towards Kate Lawless, who was sitting upon a bench
reserved for witnesses, and afterwards in the direction of Ned. The
latter celebrity smiled faintly, as if the higher education thus implied
was comparatively unimportant. But on his sister the effect of the
disclosure was widely different.
She turned her face quickly, and, as she did so, her eyes
sparkled and her set lips expressed--if not anger, malice, and all
uncharitableness--at least a far from benevolent intention towards the
speaker. Making as if to rise, but repressing herself with a strong
effort, she assumed a scornful attitude, as if prepared to listen with
resignation.
'Do you remember any conversation with reference to the horse?'
'Yes; Mr. Trevanion asked where Henry Jones lived, and whether he had
any more horses of the same breed. Ned answered that he lived at Monaro,
and that he would have some more to sell when he bought his next draught
from him.'
'You believe, then, that Trevanion had no idea that the horse was
stolen?'
'No more than you had. He said over and over again that he must get
another or two from Jones.'
'Now, Miss Lawless, you need not answer this question unless you like.
_Did you know_ that the horse was stolen?'
'No, I did not, or I would have warned Mr. Trevanion. I may have doubted
whether everything was quite square about him; but I never thought for a
moment that he was stolen.'
'May I ask you, also, what reason you were likely to have for warning
Mr. Trevanion?'
'Merely that I had a friendly feeling for him, and did not wish to see
him taken in.'
'A very good reason, too. Now there has been evidence to the effect that
Mr. Trevanion admired your cousin Kate; that he paid her a good deal of
attention?'
'Yes; no doubt he did.'
'You must excuse my asking you, but it is necessary to come to a correct
understanding; was there any rivalry or jealous feeling between you?'
'Not the slightest. He was polite--he couldn't be otherwise; but he
never cared two straws about me, or any one but Kate, though I was his
real friend; but he never knew it.'
'Was there not a letter from Kate Lawless sent by your hand to him,
after she had left for Balooka?'
'Yes; but she had to get some one to write it for her. I had a great
mind not to deliver it. I wish now that I never had, and all this might
have been saved.'
'That will do, Miss Esther. Stay--one more question. You had never, of
course, seen Mr. Trevanion in company with your cousins before you came
to Ballarat?'
It occasionally happens that an advocate, in putting a question which he
believes to be perfectly innocuous, makes some fatal mistake which
damages the whole of his previous evidence. The witness changed colour,
and hesitated, then appeared to wish to avoid answering the question.
Mr. England divined the situation. 'It's of no consequence. The witness
is not strong. You can go down, Miss Lawless.'
But it was too late. Dayrell was not the man to overlook a false move.
'I request that the witness's answer may be taken.'
'As the question has been asked, Mr. England, I think it should be
answered,' said the magistrate. 'I will put it myself from the Bench.'
'Have you at any time, witness, seen the prisoner Trevanion in company
with your cousins, before the family came to Ballarat?'
Esther Lawless stood erect as she fixed her eye with a troubled gaze
upon Mr. M'Alpine's countenance.
'Must I answer this question, your worship?' said she; 'is it necessary
in the case?'
'I think you had better,' said he, not unkindly. 'I am sure you will
tell the truth.'
'I would not swear falsely to save my own life,' said the girl, in a low
but distinct voice. 'I can only speak the truth while I stand here. I
_did_ see him riding with Ned one day before we left the Eumeralla.'
At this admission, which apparently astonished the greater number of the
spectators as much as it did Mr. England and the magistrate, both
prisoners turned their faces towards the witness with undisguised
surprise. On the countenance of Lance Trevanion there suddenly arose a
look of complete bewilderment. Abandoning his pose of scornful
indifference, he beckoned hastily to Mr. England, who came over to the
dock. After a whispered colloquy, he again addressed the witness.
'I do not wish in any way to lead you, or to induce you to alter any
part of your evidence which you feel certain of, but I entreat you, as
you value the liberty, perhaps the life of an innocent man, to
reconsider your last answer. I will repeat my question. Are you
prepared, upon your oath, to state that you ever saw the accused, Mr.
Trevanion, in company with your cousin before you left New South Wales
to come to Ballarat?'
The witness looked upward for a moment and clasped her hands. She
shuddered, and essayed in vain to reply, but finally with recovered
firmness of mien said, 'I wish it were not so, but I cannot be mistaken.
I saw him once certainly, and I believe once again, but I did see him
once, if I can believe my eyes, near Eumeralla.'
A keen observer who had watched Kate Lawless's countenance might have
marvelled at the mysterious smile which stole over her features at that
moment, might have noted also a look of conscious triumph mingled with
sudden wonder. For an instant, as she glanced towards the dock, her eyes
sought out those of her brother; they met hers with one swiftest glance
of sudden meaning.
On Lance Trevanion's countenance a despair sombre and terrible commenced
to settle. His attitude expressed utter hopelessness, the deepest
disappointment. When Esther Lawless, after a sudden burst of tears, was
permitted to leave the court, he did not raise his head. Mr. England
made one of the brilliantly exhaustive speeches which had opened the
prison gates to so many enterprising or unlucky personages. The court
was charmed, captivated, convinced, by the overpowering rush and flow of
his persuasive eloquence.
But Lance neither stirred nor looked up. The presentiment was about to
be fulfilled. He was prepared for the worst.
The case was closed. Then. Mr. M'Alpine gave his decision--
'He had heard that day some of the most extraordinary and contradictory
evidence that in his varied experience he had ever listened to. In view
of the prisoner's high character and independent position, attested by
so many witnesses, he had been on the point of discharging him, but,
after hearing the witness's last answer, which amounted to an admission
that the prisoner had been an associate of the Lawless family, even
before they had migrated to Ballarat, he could not entertain a doubt as
to a committal. It was incontestably a case for a jury. It was for them
to decide as to the credibility of opposing witnesses.'
Then came the concluding formula, after which the prisoner was asked if
he desired to say anything.
'Only this,' said the erstwhile proud scion of an ancient race,
stainless in honour, flawless in blood, of whom he alone--oh, hard and
bitter fate!--had ever linked hands with disgrace! 'Only this: that I am
as innocent of all thoughts of wrong or dishonesty to any man as my
mate's little child. I never knew or thought that the horse was other
than honestly come by. I have been deceived--by man and woman both. But
the knowledge has come too late. The witness Catharine Lawless has lied
foully. The other witnesses, particularly Esther Lawless--who is good
and truthful--have been deceived by the resemblance borne to me by
another person. I never was at Balooka before, and never in my life saw
the Eumeralla district--never heard the name even! I protest my
innocence of this and all other charges. I can say no more.'
Mr. M'Alpine paused in thought for a while--an unusual course with
him--then, amid the almost unnatural silence of the court, he said: 'I
feel compelled to send the case for trial. Launcelot Trevanion, you
stand committed to take your trial at the next ensuing Quarter Sessions,
to be holden at Ballarat, on a day to be named. Bail refused. Sergeant
Dayrell, call up the witnesses to be bound over to appear.
'This court stands adjourned.'