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The weary time had dragged on with one adjournment after another, until at length Raymond Mallison was committed for trial on a charge of attempted murder. Fortunately for him, Walter Pennington's injuries had not proved fatal, though it was doubtful if the injured man would ever be himself again. There had been some trouble which had interfered with the spine, and it looked as if Pennington would in future be a hopeless imbecile. All this had taken time, and when the day came for Mallison to take his trial at the Central Criminal Court, more than four months had elapsed. During that period nothing had been heard of Gilette except a postcard or two from the Argentine, and it was just like that brilliantly erratic genius to put in a dramatic appearance at a psychological moment. He dropped in on Sir Marston the night before the trial as if he had not been away at all.
"Well, here we are again," he said. "Just back from foreign shores. I have had a fine time out yonder, and I can tell you that the big film story moves apace. I have got all the Argentine details worked out, and I am back here because I feel it in my bones that the dramatic climax will take place in England."