ply asked Arthur if, upon leaving, he had locked the
stable-door.

"Yes--no,--I don't remember," was the bungling, and greatly
confused reply.

Mr. Moffat glanced at the jury, the smile still on his lips. Did he wish
to impress that body with the embarrassment of his client?

"Relate what followed. I am sure the jury will be glad to hear your story
from your own lips."

"It's a beastly one, but if I've got to tell it, here it is: I went
straight down to Cuthbert Road and across the fields to the club-house. I
had not taken the key to the front door, because I knew of a window I
could shake loose. I did this and went immediately down to the
wine-vault. I used an electric torch of my own for light. I pulled out
several bottles, and carried them up into the kitchen, meaning to light
the gas, kindle a fire, and have a good time generally. But I soon found
that I must do without light if I stayed there. The meter had been taken
out; and to drink by the flash of an electric torch was anything but a
pleasing prospect. Besides--" here he flashed at his counsel a glance,
which for a moment took that gentleman aback--"I had heard certain vague
sounds in the house which alarmed me, as well as roused my curiosity.
Choosing the bottle I liked best, I went to investigate these sounds."

Mr. Moffat started. His witness was having his revenge. Kept in
ignorance of his counsel's plan of defence, he was evidently advancing
testimony new to that counsel. I had not thought the lad so subtle, and
quaked in secret contemplation of the consequences. So did some others;
but the interest was intense. He had heard sounds--he acknowledged it.
But what sounds?

Observing the excitement he had caused, and gratified, perhaps, that he
had succeeded in driving that faint but unwelcome smile from Mr. Moffat's
lips, Arthur hastened to add:

"But I did not complete my investigations. Arrived at the top of the
stairs, I heard what drove me from the house at once. It was my sister's
voice--Adelaide's. She was in the building, and I stood almost on a
level with her, with a bottle in my pocket. It did not take me a minute
to clamber through the window. I did not stop to wonder, or ask why she
was there, or to whom she was speaking. I just fled and made my way as
well as I could across the golf-links to a little hotel on Cuthbert Road,
where I had been once before. There I emptied my bottle, and was so
overcome by it that I did not return home till no