DER. Yes, I had to take the money back.
CLEAVER. You mean the nine pounds. Your wits were sufficiently keen
for you to remember that? And you still persist in saying you don't
remember altering this cheque. [He sits down]
FALDER. If I hadn't been mad I should never have had the courage.
FROME. [Rising] Did you have your lunch before going back?
FALDER. I never ate a thing all day; and at night I couldn't sleep.
FROME. Now, as to the four minutes that elapsed between Davis's
going out and your cashing the cheque: do you say that you recollect
nothing during those four minutes?
FALDER. [After a moment] I remember thinking of Mr. Cokeson's face.
FROME. Of Mr. Cokeson's face! Had that any connection with what you
were doing?
FALDER. No, Sir.
FROME. Was that in the office, before you ran out?
FALDER. Yes, and while I was running.
FROME. And that lasted till the cashier said: "Will you have gold or
notes?"
FALDER. Yes, and then I seemed to come to myself--and it was too
late.
FROME. Thank you. That closes the evidence for the defence, my
lord.
The JUDGE nods, and FALDER goes back to his seat in the dock.
FROME. [Gathering up notes] If it please your lordship--Gentlemen
of the Jury,--My friend in cross-examination has shown a disposition
to sneer at the defence which has been set up in this case, and I am
free to admit that nothing I can say will move you, if the evidence
has not already convinced you that the prisoner committed this act in
a moment when to all practical intents and purposes he was not
responsible for his actions; a moment of such mental and moral
vacuity, arising from the violent emotional agitation under which he
had been suffering, as to amount to temporary madness. My friend has
alluded to the "romantic glamour" with which I have sought to invest
this case. Gentlemen, I have done nothing of the kind. I have
merely shown you the background of "life"--that palpitating life
which, believe me--whatever my friend may say--always lies behind the
commission of a crime. Now gentlemen, we live in a highly, civilized
age, and the sight of brutal violence disturbs us in a very strange
way, even when we have no personal interest in the matter. But when
we see it inflicted on a woman whom we love--what then? Just think
of what your own feelings would have been, each of you, at the
prisoner's age; and then look at him. Well! he is hardly the
comfortab
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