Explore "The Ends of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sir Cyril Bath tossed and turned on his bed, fretful, weary, worn by anxiety. At one time he had made up his mind to face the thing out. He would drag himself to Lewton, and let George Cathcart do his worst.
Who would believe the prisoner? So far as the trial had gone up to the adjournment, everything had been dead against Cathcart. Even on the evidence of the survivors of the Lone Star he must be convicted. From a careful perusal of the deposition Bath knew all that would be proved as to the Seth Powell letter. There would be no possibility of getting out of that. How the letter had found its way into Cathcart's pass-book Bath had still to learn.