They were at work. A very broken-down old
man, with white hair and a walnut face, but yet
with a cunning expression in his eyes, was being
examined by Mr. Cobham. He was striving to
hear, striving to speak; and Mr. Cobham was
striving to catch what words came from him.
The judge was conscious of a window at the far
end of the court, and motioning with hand; and
whenever Mr. Cobham stopped, said, "Go on,
Mr. Cobham." Ross stamped savagely under the
table. And there, too, was his leading counsel,
looking from side to side, carelessly sucking an
orange. The administration of justice was
growing disgraceful in this country.

"The trouble we had to get at this old
fellow," said the solicitor's clerk to two or
three barristers near the door; "to dig him up,
almost. Mr. Grainger, Ross's friend, was the
man who did the job. He hunted him up for
two months, night and day. Never let him go
a moment. Hung on him like a bull-dog. It
was wonderful. Listen, now. He is doing
wonderfully well."

So he was. Under the skilful leading of
Mr. Cobham, who had at last got the range, and
could hear himself, and make the old man hear,
he began to tell his story. How about the year
so-and-so—in the month, he couldn't give the
month—he was in Aberdeen, sitting down-stairs
one evening. How he recollected Miss
Macgregor sending him out for to bring young
William Davis to her. He was not very willing,
but he did come at last. After a time, he heard
stampings and "whirittings," and sounds of
sobbing and wailing; and he owned, to the great
merriment of the court, that he had crept
upstairs and listened, and that the whole dispute
was about a marriage. Presently he heard the
young man say, very sulkily, "Well, call up
Jamie and the maid, and I'll do what you like."
And then, said the old man, amid loud
laughter, "I thowt it were high time for me to
be going." (His lordship was really diverted,
and, to add to the hilarity, said, "You were
afraid of being surprised, no doubt?") The old
man and the maid were then called up into the
room, and William Oliver, standing up with
the young leddy's hand in his, told them that
he declared that he and the young leddy were
man and wife, and bid them recollect what he,
Mr. Davis, had said. They then retired, wondering
at this ceremony, which, as Mr. Cobham
explained to the jury, was one of the formulas to
constitute a Scotch marriage, and was known as
a contract of verba de præsenti. There was great
sensation at this the dramatic portion of the
trial, and yet greater when Serjeant Ryder
stood up, and all but dressed himself, carefully
arranging his wig and gown with dandyism, to
cross-examine the old man.

The old man kept his wiry fingers tightly
clasped as he was put to the customary question,
"To whom did you tell this story first? When
did you tell it? Why didn't you tell it before?"
with more to the same effect; the old man
answering warily, with his head on one side and
his wiry lingers tightly clasped together. Mr.
Cobham presently "interposed," and said his
learned friend would learn all that by-and-by
from the plaintiff here, and his friend, who by
almost miraculous exertions had found out this
important witness.

But Serjeant Ryder was not to be disposed of
in that fashion. He affected to submit, and with
a quiet eagerness for information began to ask
particulars about the old man's life. Where was
he in such a year? Ah! very good. Well, from
that year to such a year what was he doing?
Come now, try and recollect. Oh, he must. You
know you must have a capital memory to
recollect all this about the parlour and the
calling up. Well, he was in Aberdeen. What!
during all these long years never out of
Aberdeen? Never—that is to say, never. Why,
had he ever been out of the country? N—no
—that is, yes, for a time. What, travelling?
It was only for a time. What, travelling?
repeated the learned gentleman, in a louder
voice. Well, he supposed a man could travel
if he liked. Was it travelling for pleasure or
profit, come now? Then came one of those
secret inspirations which to a lawyer are as
convincing as a revelation. "Come, sir," said
the serjeant, in a solemn roar, "WERE YOU
EVER SENT AWAY OUT OF THE COUNTRY?"

This was spoken of afterwards among the Bar
as "a lucky shot in Ryder." Witness was in
great confusion. "Come, sir," roared the
serjeant, as from a quarter-deck; "take your hand
down and answer. Come, sir."

Cobham really must interpose here. Up to
a certain point he had given his learned friend
any latitude—but Ryder was now savage.
He was not to be interrupted. The witness
was in his hands. He must beg that Mr.
Cobham would sit down, and sit down at once.
After a terrific combat over the old man, who
was looking vacantly from one to the other, the
answer was at last wrung out of him that he
had been seven years away, in Botany Bay.
Then Ryder sat down, panting and fanning
himself.

Other witnesses then came. Among them Mr.
Tilney, who took the oath with extraordinary
reverence and solemnity, and added the words,
"So help me God, Amen," of his own motion,
and with great fervour. Relating what he felt
afterwards at dinner, he said, " I was in the
presence of my Maker, you know. And I was to
speak the whole truth, every particle of the truth,
and nothing in the wide world but the truth.
Words which seem to me awfully impressive."
But he did not think that perhaps the simple
text of the original would have been more so.

What had Mr. Tilney to tell as to this
trial? Simply this. With the leave of his
lordship there he would relate all he knew in his
own way, which might, after all, simplify the
matter——

His lordship thinks bluntly, and without
raising his spectacles from the paper, that he
had better answer any questions put in the
regular way.

"Yes," says Mr. Paget, " if you will follow