having been put, gentlemen," he
said. "Doubtless counsel is trying to establish the fact that one person
might just as easily have been Rex Holland as another. There is no
suggestion that Mr. Cole went to Silvers Rents--which I understand is in
a very poor neighborhood--with any illegal intent, or that he was
committing any crime or behaving in any way improperly by paying such
frequent visits. There may be something in the witness's life associated
with that poor house which has no bearing on the case and which he does
not desire should be ventilated in this court. It happens to many of
us," the judge went on, "that we have associations which it would
embarrass us to reveal."

This little incident closed that portion of the cross-examination, and
counsel went on to the night of the murder.

"When did you come to the house?" he asked.

"I came to the house soon after dark."

"Had you been in London?"

"Yes; I walked from Bexhill."

"It was dark when you arrived?"

"Yes, nearly dark."

"The servants had all gone out?"

"Yes."

"Was Mr. Minute pleased to see you?"

"Yes; he had expected me earlier in the day."

"Did he tell you that his nephew was coming to see him?"

"I knew that."

"You say he suggested that you should make yourself scarce?"

"Yes."

"And as you had a headache, you went upstairs and lay down on your bed?"

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Bexhill?"

"I came down from town and got into the wrong portion of the train."

A junior leaned over and whispered quickly to his leader.

"I see, I see," said the counsel petulantly. "Your ticket was found at
Bexhill. Have you ever seen Mr. Rex Holland?" he asked.

"Never."

"You have never met any person of that name?"

"Never."

In this tame way the cross-examination closed, as cross-examinations
have a habit of doing.

By the time the final addresses of counsel had ended, and the judge had
finished a masterly summing-up, there was no doubt whatever in the mind
of any person in the court as to what the verdict would be. The jury was
absent from the box for twenty minutes and returned a verdict of "Not
guilty!"

The judge discharged Frank Merrill without comment, and he left the
court a free but ruined man.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MAN WHO CAME TO MONTREUX

It was two months after the great trial, on a warm day in October, when
Frank Merrill stepped ashore from the big white paddle boat which had
carried him across Lake L