ity with which the case was conducted on both sides. The prosecution,
as it was their duty to do, forged the chain of evidence against Mr.
Assheton as strongly as they were able, and pieced together incriminating
circumstances against him with a skill that at first seemed conclusive of
his guilt. The first thing that occurred to make a weak link in their
chain was the acknowledgment of a certain witness that the stick with
which the murder was supposed to have been committed was not left on the
spot by the accused, but by himself. Why he admitted that we can only
conjecture, but my conjecture is that it was an act of repentance and
contrition on his part. When it came to that point he could not let the
evidence which he had himself supplied tell against him on whom it was
clearly his object to father the crime. You will remember also that
certain circumstances pointed to robbery being the motive of the crime.
That I think was the first idea, so to speak of the real criminal. Then,
we must suppose, he saw himself safer, if he forged against another
certain evidence which we have heard."

The judge paused for a moment, and then went on with evident emotion.

"This case will never be reopened again," he said, "for a reason that I
will subsequently tell the court; we have seen the last of this tragedy,
and retribution and punishment are in the hands of a higher and supreme
tribunal. This witness, Mr. Edward Taynton--has been for years a friend
of mine, and the sympathy which I felt for him at the opening of the
case, when a young man, to whom I still believe him to have been
attached, was on his trial, is changed to a deeper pity. During the
afternoon you have heard certain evidence, from which you no doubt as
well as I infer that the fact of this murder having been committed was
known to the man who wrote a letter and blotted it on the sheet which has
been before the court. That man also, as it was clear to us an hour ago,
directed a certain envelope which you have also seen. I may add that Mr.
Taynton had, as I knew, an extraordinary knack of imitating handwritings;
I have seen him write a signature that I could have sworn was mine. But
he has used that gift for tragic purposes.

"I have just received a telegram. He left this court before the luncheon
interval, and went to his house in Brighton. Arrived there, as I have
just learned, he poisoned himself. And may God have mercy on his soul."

Again he paused.

"The cas