“Did anybody see you at the railway station?”
Frank shook his head.
“I suppose hundreds of people saw me, but would hardly remember me.”
“Was there anyone on the train who knew you?”
“No,” said Frank, after a moment’s thought. “There were six people in my carriage until we got to Lewes, but I think I told you that, and you have not succeeded in tracing any of them.”
“It is most difficult to get into touch with those people,” said the lawyer. “Think of the scores of people one travels with, without ever remembering what they looked like or how they were dressed. If you had been a woman, traveling with women, every one of your five fellow passengers would have remembered you and would have recalled your hat.”
Frank laughed.
“There are certain disadvantages in being a man,” he said. “How do you think the case is going?”
“They have offered no evidence yet. I think you will agree, Mr. Mann,” he said respectfully, for Saul Arthur Mann was a power in legal circles.
“None at all,” the little fellow agreed.
Frank recalled the first day he had seen him, with his hat perched on the back of his head and his shabby, genteel exterior.
“Oh, by Jove!” he said. “I suppose they will be trying to fasten the death of that man upon me that we saw in Gray Square.”
Saul Arthur Mann nodded.
“They have not put that in the indictment,” he said, “nor the case of the chauffeur. You see, your conviction will rest entirely upon this present charge, and both the other matters are subsidiary.”
Frank walked thoughtfully up and down the room, his hands behind his back.
“I wonder who Rex Holland is,” he said, half to himself.
“You still have your theory?” asked the lawyer, eying him keenly.
Frank nodded.
“And you still would rather not put it into words?”
“Much rather not,” said Frank gravely.
He returned to the court and glanced round for the girl, but she was not there. The rest of the afternoon’s proceedings, taken up as they were with the preliminaries of the case, bored him.
It was on the twelfth day of the trial that Jasper Cole stepped on to the witness stand. He was dressed in black and was paler than usual, but he took the oath in a firm voice and answered the questions which were put to him without hesitation.
The story of Frank’s quarrel with his uncle, of the forged checks, and of his own experience on the night of the crime filled the greater part of the forenoon, and it was in the afternoon when Bryan Bennett, one of the most brilliant barristers of his time, stood up to cross-examine.
“Had you any suspicion that your employer was being robbed?”
“I had a suspicion,” replied Jasper.
“Did you communicate your suspicion to your employer?”
Jasper hesitated.
“No,” he replied at last.
“Why do you hesitate?” asked Bennett sharply.
“Because, although I did not directly communicate my suspicions, I hinted to Mr. Minute that he should have an independent audit.”
“So you thought the books were wrong?”
“I did.”
“In these circumstances,” asked Bennett slowly, “do you not think it was very unwise of you to touch those books yourself?”
“When did I touch them?” asked Jasper quickly.
“I suggest that on a certain night you came to the bank and remained in the bank by yourself, examining the ledgers on behalf of your employer, and that during that time you handled at least three books in which these falsifications were made.”
“That is quite correct,” said Jasper, after a moment’s thought; “but my suspicions were general and did not apply to any particular group of books.”
“But did you not think it was dangerous?”
Again the hesitation.
“It may have been foolish, and if I had known how matters were developing I should certainly not have touched them.”
“You do admit that there were several periods of time from seven in the evening until nine and from nine-thirty until eleven-fifteen when you were absolutely alone in the bank?”
“That is true,” said Jasper.
“And during those periods you could, had you wished and had you been a forger, for example, or had you any reason for falsifying the entries, have made those falsifications?”
“I admit there was time,” said Jasper.
“Would you describe yourself as a friend of Frank Merrill’s?”
“Not a close friend,” replied Jasper.
“Did you like him?”
“I cannot say that I was fond of him,” was the reply.
“He was a rival of yours?”
“In what respect?”
Counsel shrugged his shoulders.
“He was very fond of Miss Nuttall.”
“Yes.”
“And she was fond of him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you not aspire to pay your addresses to Miss Nuttall?”
Jasper Cole looked down to the girl, and May averted her eyes. Her cheeks were burning and she had a wild desire to flee from the court.
“If you mean did I love Miss Nuttall,” said Jasper Cole, in his quiet, even tone, “I reply that I did.”
“You even secured the active support of Mr. Minute?”
“I never urged the matter with Mr. Minute,” said Jasper.
“So that if he moved on your behalf he did so without your knowledge?”
“Without my pre-knowledge,” corrected the witness. “He told me afterward that he had spoken to Miss Nuttall, and I was considerably embarrassed.”
“I understand you were a man of curious habits, Mr. Cole.”
“We are all people of curious habits,” smiled the witness.
“But you in particular. You were an Orientalist, I believe?”
“I have studied Oriental languages and customs,” said Jasper shortly.
“Have you ever extended your study to the realm of hypnotism?”
“I have,” replied the witness.
“Have you ever made experiments?”
“On animals, yes.”
“On human beings?”
“No, I have never made experiments on human beings.”
“Have you also made a study of narcotics?”
The lawyer leaned forward over the table and looked at the witness between half-closed eyes.
“I have made experiments with narcotic herbs and plants,” said Jasper, after a moment’s hesitation. “I think you should know that the career which was planned for me was that of a doctor, and I have always been very interested in the effects of narcotics.”
“You know of a drug called cannabis indica?” asked the counsel, consulting his
