It was one of the things most dreaded by
Gilbert, and the colleague who was associated
with him in the defence, that the counsel for the
prosecution should find out Vampi's weak side,
and get any idea of the nature ot those studies
in which the philosopher was in the habit of
engaging. There seemed rational cause to
apprehend lest the jury should mistrust the
evidence of a man who constructed horoscopes and
dealt in the Elixir of Life. It may be conceived,
then, with how much alarm Gilbert watched the
turn which things were now taking. The
examination went on.

Serjeant Probyn. You were at work in your
study or laboratory, were you? And may I
ask, Mr. Vampi, what was the nature of your
undertakings? Were you inventing a new
corn-plaister, or studying a patent blister?

Witness. I was doing neither of these things,
sir, though a man might be worse occupied. I
was engaged, however, in studies of a more
exalted kind.

Gilbert's heart sunk within him as he heard
that answer. He knew from his friend Lethwaite
what might be expected if Cornelius was once
launched on his favourite theme. Meanwhile,
the cross-examination does not halt.

Serjeant Probyn. "In more exalted studies,"
ay, ay, ay. May I ask of what nature, Mr.
Vampi? Of a material or a spiritual kind?

Witness. Of both kinds—spiritual as my
studies have been of the heavenly bodies and
their influence on the fortunes of my
fellow-creatures—material as they have been directed
to such combinations of material drugs as might
tend to alleviate suffering, and bring back
vitality and even youth itself to those who have
declined somewhat into the vale of years.

Serjeant Probyn. Upon my word, but these
are studies with a vengeance, Mr. Vampi. You
are something of a magician, then?

Witness. No, an interpreter merely. Spiritually,
I interpret to mankind what the stars teach
me of their different fates, and physically, I
combine those herbs and drugs whose properties I
know, and give my fellow-creatures the benefit
of the result.

It may be conceived what were Gilbert's
sensations as he heard what Cornelius Vampi
said. How might the value of his evidence be
diminished by such folly as this? How could
judge or jury be expected to believe in a witness
who thus pleaded guilty to a belief in horoscopes
and elixirs of youth? It was dangerous in the
last degree. How terrible it was that the man
should have got upon this theme. Gilbert
determined that an effort should be made—and
that at once—to stop the thing before it got
further, and protect her whom he was defending
from this new danger. The counsel for the
defence rose then and submitted to the court—
that this was not evidence.

There followed then the customary debating
which such an objection always raises. The
counsel for the prosecution contending that it
was his duty to ascertain how far the witness
was, or was not, a trustworthy one, and that
any evidence which went to strengthen or
invalidate his testimony was fit evidence to be
taken in court that day and pertinent to
the matter in hand. Considerable discussion
followed on this assertion of Serjeant Probyn' s,
but the court ruled at last that the evidence in
question was not evidence in this case.

The learned serjeant, nothing daunted,
proceeded with, his cross-examination on a new
tack. Alas, everything seemed, sooner or
later, to lead back to the dangerous subject.
Cross-examination continued.

Serjeant Probyn. And now, Mr. Vampi, will
you be kind enough to inform the court how it
happened that you did at last come to hear of
the sad story which is under investigation in
this court to-day?

Witness. I heard of it at last through one of
my clients.

Serjeant Probyn. "One of your clients,"
eh? That is a curious expression. I suppose
you mean some one who consulted you?

Witness. That is my meaning.

Serjeant Probyn. Will you be good enough
to tell the court the name of the individual in
question.

Witness. Certainly. His name is Lethwaite—
Mr. Julius Lethwaite.

Serjeant Probyn. Oh, indeed, Mr. Julius
Lethwaite. (Referring to a paper.) One of the
witnesses for the defence, I see. And was this
gentleman a material or a spiritual client?

Witness. He came to consult me as one who
was able to interpret the occult language of the
oracles on high———

Again the counsel for the defence interposed,
and submitted that the evidence of the witness
was wandering away from the point, and again,
after much discussion, the verdict of the court
was on his side.

Serjeant Probyn seemed utterly unabashed by
this second decision against him. He knew
that the witness under examination had said
enough, before lie could be stopped, to show the
jury something of his visionary character, and
he did not despair of more of this being brought
out yet, as the examination went on. For he
had not done with him yet, as the next question
proved.

Serjeant Probyn. You have spoken with great
confidence, Mr. Vampi, of your conviction that
the lady to whom you sold this laudanum
and the late Miss Carrington were one and the
same person. This is a matter of such
importance, that I must ask you very seriously if
you are perfectly convinced that this is so?

Witness. I am perfectly convinced.

Serjeant Probyn. And on what do you base
that conviction?

Witness. On the testimony of my own eyes.
I find that the face portrayed in this photograph
is in features, expression, and every
other respect, the counterpart of the countenance
of that lady to whom I sold the laudanum.

Serjeant Probyn. You are aware that you
are speaking on oath.

Witness. I am perfectly aware of it.