Chapter Thirty Two. Rays of Hope.

My trial was concluding.

With logical clearness Mr Roland addressed the jury for my defence, saying that in the face of the evidence which had been produced, and which all tended to show that the murder was committed by another person, he felt assured they would not find me guilty. He commented at some length upon the lack of corroborative evidence on the part of the prosecution, criticising the weak points in that masterly manner which had brought him so much renown.

“I again admit, gentlemen,” he continued, “mine is not a wholly satisfactory defence, for the prisoner appears to have acted somewhat suspiciously, and he refuses to explain certain matters connected with the occurrence; yet this trial is satisfactory, inasmuch as it has caused the real culprit to be denounced, and although I am as ignorant as yourselves as to the identity of the murderer, I understand the police are already engaged in tracking him.

“As I told you in my opening speech, there are certain facts connected with this case which are bound to be kept secret, even though a man’s life or liberty are at stake, and when I tell you that I—like yourselves—am unaware of the bearing which these family affairs have upon the crime we are investigating, you will fully appreciate the difficulty in which I am placed. Had it not been for the production of the two witnesses by the prisoner’s wife at the eleventh hour, I should have been compelled to give way against the weight of circumstantial evidence brought by the prosecution. However, I feel assured that no right-minded man can assume that the prisoner at the bar had any hand in the assassination of the defenceless woman in Bedford Place, after the statement of the maid who actually saw the crime committed, and who positively swears that the accused was not present. I would therefore ask you to at once return a verdict of ‘Not Guilty,’ and thus bring about the prisoner’s discharge.”

Then the judge summed up.

He reviewed the case with much deliberation and care, saying that, in dealing with a crime committed without any witnesses being present, inference must take the place of direct evidence; but in the case before them they had discovered that a witness was present, and that witness positively swore that I was not the murderer. Therefore, despite the obvious gaps in the argument for the defence, it was an open question whether or not I should be discharged.

The spectators looked on with breathless anxiety, understanding that the woman’s evidence had served as a lever to demolish the whole theory of the prosecution.

But no. The jury were not unanimous. They asked leave to retire. Once only I saw Vera during the quarter of an hour they were absent. I could see she was terribly agitated as she leant over to consult Mr Roland. “You need have no fear,” I heard him say. “He will be acquitted.”

All eyes were turned upon me during those awful moments.

Suddenly there was a movement, and the jury Slowly filed into Court.

A deathlike stillness ensued as the clerk rose and asked the foreman,—

“Have you agreed upon your verdict?”

“We have.”

“Do you find the prisoner, Frank Burgoyne, guilty of having murdered Ethel Inglewood, or not guilty?”

“Not guilty!”

An outburst of applause greeted this announcement; then the judge ordered my discharge, and I walked from the dock a free man.

Vera met me, and flinging her arms about my neck, kissed me. My face was wet with her tears of joy. Not a single word was exchanged between us.

We left the Court together, and entering a cab, drove to the Grand Hotel, where she was staying.