A SENSATION
"I can assure you that the situation was quite dramatic," continued the
man in the corner, whilst his funny, claw-like hands took up a bit of
string with renewed feverishness.
"In answer to further questions from the magistrate, she declared that
she had never seen the accused; he might have been the go-between,
however, that she could not say. The letters she received were all
typewritten, but signed 'Armand de la Tremouille,' and certainly the
signature was identical with that on the letters she used to receive
from him years ago, all of which she had kept.
"'And did it _never_ strike you,' asked the magistrate with a smile,
'that the letters you received might be forgeries?'
"'How could they be?' she replied decisively; no one knew of my marriage
to the Comte de la Tremouille, no one in England certainly. And,
besides, if some one did know the Comte intimately enough to forge his
handwriting and to blackmail me, why should that some one have waited
all these years? I have been married seven years, your Honour.'
"That was true enough, and there the matter rested as far as she was
concerned. But the identity of Mr. Francis Morton's assailant had to be
finally established, of course, before the prisoner was committed for
trial. Dr. Mellish promised that Mr. Morton would be allowed to come to
court for half an hour and identify the accused on the following day,
and the case was adjourned until then. The accused was led away between
two constables, bail being refused, and Brighton had perforce to
moderate its impatience until the Wednesday.
"On that day the court was crowded to overflowing; actors, playwrights,
literary men of all sorts had fought for admission to study for
themselves the various phases and faces in connection with the case.
Mrs. Morton was not present when the prisoner, quiet and self-possessed,
was brought in and placed in the dock. His solicitor was with him, and a
sensational defence was expected.
"Presently there was a stir in the court, and that certain sound, half
rustle, half sigh, which preludes an expected palpitating event. Mr.
Morton, pale, thin, wearing yet in his hollow eyes the stamp of those
five days of suffering, walked into court leaning on the arm of his
doctor--Mrs. Morton was not with him.
"He was at once accommodated with a chair in the witness-box, and the
magistrate, after a few words of kindly sympathy, asked him if he had
anything to add to his written statement. On Mr. Morton replying in the
negative, the magistrate added:
"'And now, Mr. Morton, will you kindly look at the accused in the dock
and tell me whether you recognize the person who took you to the room in
Russell House and then assaulted you?'
"Slowly the sick man turned towards the prisoner and looked at him; then
he shook his head and replied quietly:
"'No, sir, that certainly was not the man.'
"'You are quite sure?' asked the magistrate in amazement, while the
crowd literally gasped with wonder.
"'I swear it,' asserted Mr. Morton.
"'Can you describe the man who assaulted you?'
"'Certainly. He was dark, of swarthy complexion, tall, thin, with bushy
eyebrows and thick black hair and short beard. He spoke English with
just the faintest suspicion of a foreign accent.'
"The prisoner, as I told you before, was English in every feature.
English in his ruddy complexion, and absolutely English in his speech.
"After that the case for the prosecution began to collapse. Every one
had expected a sensational defence, and Mr. Matthew Quiller, counsel
for Skinner, fully justified all these expectations. He had no fewer
than four witnesses present who swore positively that at 9.45 a.m. on
the morning of Wednesday, March 17th, the prisoner was in the express
train leaving Brighton for Victoria.
"Not being endowed with the gift of being in two places at once, and Mr.
Morton having added the whole weight of his own evidence in Mr. Edward
Skinner's favour, that gentleman was once more remanded by the
magistrate, pending further investigation by the police, bail being
allowed this time in two sureties of £50 each."