, the identification of his body, and of a
snake-shaped ring he had been wearing at dinner that evening. Testimony
of a pawnbroker, that this same ring was pawned with him the first thing
yesterday morning by the prisoner. Testimony of a policeman that he had
noticed the man Evan several times in Glove Lane, and twice moved him on
from sleeping under that arch. Testimony of another policeman that,
when arrested at midnight, Evan had said: "Yes; I took the ring off
his finger. I found him there dead .... I know I oughtn't to have done
it.... I'm an educated man; it was stupid to pawn the ring. I found him
with his pockets turned inside out."

Fascinating and terrible to sit staring at the man in whose place he
should have been; to wonder when those small bright-grey bloodshot eyes
would spy him out, and how he would meet that glance. Like a baited
raccoon the little man stood, screwed back into a corner, mournful,
cynical, fierce, with his ridged, obtuse yellow face, and his stubbly
grey beard and hair, and his eyes wandering now and again amongst the
crowd. But with all his might Laurence kept his face unmoved. Then came
the word "Remanded"; and, more like a baited beast than ever, the man
was led away.

Laurence sat on, a cold perspiration thick on his forehead. Someone
else, then, had come on the body and turned the pockets inside out
before John Evan took the ring. A man such as Walenn would not be out
at night without money. Besides, if Evan had found money on the body he
would never have run the risk of taking that ring. Yes, someone else had
come on the body first. It was for that one to come forward, and prove
that the ring was still on the dead man's finger when he left him, and
thus clear Evan. He clung to that thought; it seemed to make him less
responsible for the little man's position; to remove him and his own
deed one step further back. If they found the person who had taken the
money, it would prove Evan's innocence. He came out of the court in a
sort of trance. And a craving to get drunk attacked him. One could not
go on like this without the relief of some oblivion. If he could only
get drunk, keep drunk till this business was decided and he knew whether
he must give himself up or no. He had now no fear at all of people
suspecting him; only fear of himself--fear that he might go and give
himself up. Now he could see the girl; the danger from that was as
nothing compared with the danger from his own con