Was there any special occasion for the visit you allude to?"

"I think there was, sir. He had just lost heavily in International Mail,
and evidently came in to talk about business. At any rate, he did talk
about it, as he had never done before."

"Can you give us the drift or substance of his conversation and
statements?"

"Well, sir, he assured me that he had not been shaken by his losses,
said that he kept his manufacturing business entirely separate from his
speculations, gave me a history of the manner in which my brother's
inventions had come into his hands, and, finally, showed me a little
account book, in which he had recorded his profits from manufactures
under what he called the Benedict Patents."

"Did you read this book, Mrs. Dillingham?"

"I did, sir."

"Every word?"

"Every word."

"Did you hear me serve a notice on the defendant's counsel to produce
this book in Court?"

"I did, sir."

"In that notice did I give the title of the book correctly?"

"You did, sir."

"Was this book left in your hands for a considerable length of time?"

"It was, sir, for several hours."

"Did you copy it?"

"I did, sir, every word of it."

"Are you sure that you made a correct copy?"

"I verified it, sir, item by item, again and again."

"Can you give me any proof corroborative of your statement that this
book has been in your hands?"

"I can, sir."

"What is it?"

"A letter from Mr. Belcher, asking me to deliver the book to his man
Phipps."

"Is that the letter?" inquired Mr. Balfour, passing the note into her
hands.

"It is, sir."

"May it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, turning to the Judge, "the
copy of this account-book is in my possession, and if the defendant
persists in refusing to produce the original, I shall ask the privilege
of placing it in evidence."

During the examination of this witness, the defendant and his counsel
sat like men overwhelmed. Mr. Cavendish was angry with his client, who
did not even hear the curses which were whispered in his ear. The latter
had lost not only his money, but the woman whom he loved. The
perspiration stood in glistening beads upon his forehead. Once he put
his head down upon the table before him, while his frame was convulsed
with an uncontrollable passion. He held it there until Mr. Cavendish
touched him, when he rose and staggered to a pitcher of iced water upon
the bar, and drank a long draught. The exhibition of his pain was too
terr