the prisoner, I believe. Are you not, Mr.
Lethwaite?

"Witness. Yes, I am proud to say I am.

Mr. Pry. Just so. You would be glad, no
doubt, to say what might exercise a favourable
influence on her case?

This question was at once objected to on the
part of the defence, and it was ruled that the
witness need make no answer to it; so Mr. Pry
had to begin again.

Mr. Pry. Will you allow me to ask you what
you are, Mr. Lethwaite?

Witness (after considerable hesitation, during
which he had in vain sought for a satisfactory
way of expressing himself). I am a drummer.
[Some degree of amusement excited among the
audience by this answer, all expression of which
was instantly suppressed.]

Mr. Pry. "A drummer!" Will you have the
kindness to explain to the jury what you mean
by that, Mr. Lethwaite?

Witness. I mean, that I play on the drums in
an orchestra.

Mr. Pry. Do you mean to say that you get
your living in that way?

Witness. Yes, at present I do in a great
degree.

Mr. Pry. "At present." Then it is fair to
presume that this this drumming has not always
furnished you with a means of subsistence?
May I ask what other pursuits you may have
engaged in?

Witness. I have previously been engaged in
commercial pursuits.

Mr. Pry. Oh, indeed; from commerce to
drumming; "from grave to gay." Quite a
remarkable transition. [About this time the
learned gentleman, beginning to perceive that
the line he was adopting was looked upon as
being somewhat irrelevant to the case, and that
he was likely to be again interrupted, adroitly
passed to another field of inquiry.] But we
will not occupy ourselves any longer with the
very remarkable and incongruous professional
pursuits in which you have first and last been
engaged. We will, I say, let that matter drop,
Mr. Lethwaite, and I will next inquire how you
came to be acquainted with a certain Mr.
Cornelius Vampi, who was recently examined as a
witness for the defence?

Witness (after some hesitation). I had heard
him spoken of a good deal, and I went to—-
to consult him.

Mr. Pry. Oh, indeed. To consult him as a
chemist, I presume?

Witness. No, not precisely as a chemist.

Mr. Pry. Then I suppose it was in his
capacity as a fortune-teller or astrologer that you
consulted him?

Witness (doggedly). Yes, it was.

Mr. Pry. You are a believer in magic, then,
Mr. Lethwaite? You live in the nineteenth
century, in an age of electric telegraphs and
railroads, an age when superstitions of all kinds
are vanishing before the advancing light of
science, and you are still a believer in magic?

Witness. I did not say so?

Mr. Pry. You did not say so, but you implied
as much by stating that you had consulted this
Mr. Vampi in his capacity as a soothsayer.

Witness. Yes; but I did not say that I
believed in all his predictions.

Mr. Pry. That, I say, was implied. Why
else should you have consulted him?

Witness. I might have consulted him out of
curiosity.

Mr. Pry. Come, come, Mr. Lethwaite, that
will hardly do. Do you believe in this Mr.
Vampi's pretensions, or do you not? Are you
prepared to admit that you—living in this great
and glorious age, one of whose leading
characteristics is the general diffusion of light and
knowledge—that you, I say, can go backward so
far as to place any confidence in those occult
arts which even the most grossly superstitious
among men have ceased to believe in, and which
only the most ignorant and contemptible of
mankind now think of practising?

The cross-examination was once more
interrupted at this point. This discussion was an
interruption. It was irrelevant, not connected
witli the matter in hand. The cross-examination
must be confined to points of evidence
bearing on the case, or be discontinued altogether.
Mr. Pry was obliged, then, to be satisfied
with what he had already extracted from this
witness in connexion with his belief in the secret
sciences, and to go on to something else, as thus:

Mr. Pry. I will now tax your memory on
another point, Mr. Lethwaite. Did you not, on.
the twenty-seventh of January last, receive an
intimation from the prisoner that the rooms
then occupied by Miss Carrington would be
vacant on the following day?

Witness. I am not quite sure of the date,
but I did receive such an intimation about the
time you mention.

Mr. Pry. And did you act upon it?

Witness. Yes I did.

Mr. Pry. And did you take possession of the
rooms upon that occasion?

Witness. No, they were not available for the
purpose.

Mr. Pry. And why not, may I ask?

Witness. Miss Carrington had died in the
mean time most unexpectedly, and her remains
were not at that time removed.

Mr. Pry. Exactly so. It would appear that
the prisoner had calculated on the death of the
deceased lady, otherwise she would not have
suggested that another occupant should succeed
to the possession of her rooms.

Witness. Hardly so. The accused had reason
to expect that the unfortunate Miss Carriugton
would go away on the day in question. Had
the accused known that Miss Carriugton was to
die, she would also have known that the rooms
would not be vacant, it not being the custom in
this country to remove the body from a house
on the day succeeding that on which the decease
takes place.

There was a great pause after this answer had
been given. It was felt on all sides that the
junior counsel for the prosecution had made a