hat the man had been
unjustly accused by this Napoleon--there never was a man so trampled
on--and every word of the whole accusation was false. _So_ did some
solicitors instruct young counsel in those days.

I started my business of cross-examination, accordingly, with a few
tentative questions, testing whether the ice would bear before I took
the other foot off dry land. It did not seem to be very strong, I
thought. Some of them were a little bewildering, perhaps, but that,
doubtless, was their only fault, which the Prince was desirous of
amending, and he graciously appealed to me in a very sensible manner
by suggesting that if I would put a question that he _could_ answer,
he would do so.

I thought it a fair offer, even from a Prince, if I could only trust
him. I kept my bargain, and definitely shaped my examination so that
"Yes" and "No" should be all that would be necessary.

We got on very well indeed for some little time, his answers coming
with great readiness and truth. He was perfectly straightforward, and
so was I.

"Yes, sir," "No, sir;" that was all.

As I have said, at this time I had not had much experience in
cross-examination, but I had some intuitive knowledge of the art
waiting to be developed. Napoleon gave me my first lesson in that
department.

"I am afraid, sir," said his Highness, "you have been sadly
misinstructed in this case."

"I am afraid, sir, I have," said I. "One or the other of us must be
wrong, and I am much inclined to think it's my solicitor."

It was a nice little bull, which the Prince liked apparently, for he
laughed good-humouredly, and especially when I found, as I quickly
did, that my strength was to sit still, which I also did.

I had learned by this exhibition of forces that there _was_ a defence,
if I could only keep it up my sleeve. To expose it before the
magistrate would simply enable Clarkson, who was opposed to me, to
bring up reinforcements, and knock me into a cocked hat instead of
Napoleon. Old Saul knew nothing whatever about my intended manoeuvre,
nor did Clarkson or his solicitor.

I knew the man would be committed for trial; the magistrate had
intimated as much. I therefore said nothing, except that I would
reserve my defence.

Had I said a word, Clarkson would have shaped his indictment to
meet the objection which I intended to make; the man, however, was
committed to the Old Bailey in total ignorance of what defence was to
be made.

The case wa