For the Defence, Dr. Thorndyke

THE conclusion of Sir Oliver's opening speech was succeeded by a brief pause before the calling of the witnesses, during which Andrew reflected in a dull, bewildered fashion on what he had heard. It was all surprisingly plausible, even convincing, and the speaker had contrived, in spite of a studied moderation, to convey the feeling that he, himself, was convinced of the prisoner's guilt. Of course, it was all quite unreal; but no one besides himself -- and perhaps Thorndyke -- knew the real facts. Sir Oliver had in no respect exaggerated or distorted the known facts, and the conclusion that he had suggested as inferable from those facts was a fair, reasonable and logical conclusion.

And now the witnesses would be called; and Andrew knew in advance what they would say. They would fully bear out the counsel's statement; and what they would say would be the truth which no cross-examination would shake. It did not look promising, but yet Dr. Thorndyke (who knew all that the prosecution knew) had seemed to be quite confident. But at this point, his reflections were broken in upon by a voice, calling the name of Mary Barton. His eyes had been resting almost continuously on her, and he now saw her rise from her seat and walk resolutely towards the witness-box. He noted that she was pale and haggard and obviously distressed, but her face was set in an expression of hard, stern resolution that he found it difficult to connect with the gentle, kindly Molly whom he had known in the days of his happy and peaceful married life.