pause here, and referred to some papers which
he held in his hand. Then he spoke again; and
it will be observed that from this moment he
spoke of " the lady," who had hitherto been
only so alluded to as "the deceased Miss
Carrington," thus showing that he considered the
identity of the two to be conclusively proved.

Mr. Penmore. The laudanum which you sold
to the late Miss Carrington, was it supplied
latterly by you in larger quantities?

Witness. Yes; she complained of not having
enough, and of having to come so often, so that
latterly she had it in larger quantities.

Mr. Penmore. I have only one more question
to ask you, Mr. Vampi. Is this bottle one
which has come from your shop? (A bottle
was here handed to witness.)

Witness (after examining the bottle). Yes,
I believe it to be so. At all events, it is the
exact counterpart, in label and every other
respect, of that which I should sell on such an
occasion.

The excitement which attended the examination
of Cornelius Vampi was from the first very
great. It was shared by Gabrielle herself. To
her, it must be remembered that his evidence
was altogether new, and that it solved what was
as great a difficulty to her as it had been to
others, namely, the great doubt as to who it was
who had really administered the poison to the
deceased lady. She knew that she had not, that
was all. She was so much interested in what
this witness had to say, that, at last, half
unconscious of what she did, she put aside her veil
that she might see and hear the better. The
sight of that innocent face impressed every one
in court, and helped to turn the tide which had
now begun to set in in her favour.

When Gilbert sat down, at the conclusion of
the examination of Vampi, Serjeant Probyn,
for the prosecution, instantly rose, prepared to
conduct the cross-examination of this very
important witness himself. An important witness
indeed, for it was felt by every one that, unless
his evidence should break down under
cross-examination, it must most certainly turn the
scale. The learned serjeant wore his most
imposing air, and frowned upon the witness in
silence for some time. But Cornelius was not
the man to be put down in this way. What!
he, who consorted on intimate terms with Jupiter
and Mars, put down by a helpless mortal,
who had probably never read a line of Albertus
Magnus in his life. Not likely that.

There was a great deal of consultation
between Serjeant Probyn and his junior, and much
covert talk of attorneys at this time—a great
deal of whispering and pushing about of notes
written on small scraps of paper. At length
the serjeant, still wearing a portentous frown,
hitched his gown up at the shoulder, and
began.

Serjeant Probyn. You call yourself "herbalist
and seedsman," I think, do you not, Mr.—er—
er—(referring to paper)—Mr. Vampi?

Witness. Yes, sir, I am a herbalist and seedsman

Serjeant Probyn. And yet, despite this
designation under which you are, so to speak, set
forth, you are in the habit of selling medicines,
and even, as it would appear, dangerous
poisons?

Witness. I do occasionally.

Serjeant Probyn. Oh, you do occasionally;
and may I ask why, under those circumstances,
you do not style yourself "chemist" or " druggist?"

Witness. Because I am principally herbalist
and seedsman. I put up the designation which
I go by chiefly. If my shop-front were inscribed
with the names of all the articles which I deal
in, it would cover the whole window.

Serjeant Probyn. There is no occasion for
anything of that sort. The nature of your business
is not indicated sufficiently by the words herbalist
and seedsman, and it is probably in consequence
of that defect that the police were so far misled
as not to visit you when the inquiries into the
death of the late Miss Carrington were first set
on foot. Enough of that, however. I wish
to inquire, next, how it happens that you have
not come forward earlier with your evidence?

Witness. Because, till yesterday, I had never
heard of the case.

Serjeant Probyn. Come, come, Mr. Vampi.
This will scarcely do. Do you mean to tell the
jury that this case, which has been so widely
discussed, both in the newspapers and in private
conversation, never attracted your attention till
yesterday?

Witness. I have already said so.

Serjeant Probyn. Do you not read the
newspapers, Mr. Vampi?

Witness. Very rarely, and, lately especially, I
have been so occupied as to have no time for
anything of the sort.

Serjeant Probyn. And your neighbours and
customers have never spoken to you on the subject?

Witness. Certainly not; or if they have, not
so as to attract my attention, or give me the
least idea that it was anything with which I
could be mixed up in any way.

Serjeant Probyn. It is a very strange thing,
you must allow, Mr. Vampi, that an affair of
this sort, which has been the talk of the town,
should all this time have escaped you? Are
you not in the habit of talking with your
customers, Mr. Vampi?

Witness. My customers are generally much,
too full of their own wants and their own
troubles, to talk to me upon other subjects.
Besides, I have lately been less in the shop than,
usual.

Serjeant Probyn. You have been less in the
shop than usual, eh? and yet you told us just
now that you had been especially busy of late.
How do you reconcile those two statements,
Mr. Vampi?

Witness. I have said that I was busy, and I
have said that I was not much in my shop. It
follows, then, as your knowledge of logic will
inform you, that I was busy out of my shop. I
was at work in my study, or laboratory, as I
should rather call it.