ter,
it cannot deceive you, however disguised it may be. A witness's
evidence may deceive, but his manner is the looking-glass of his mind,
sometimes of his innocence. It was so in this case.

The man was not acting, and he was not an actor.

This made the first impression on my mind, and I knew there _must_
be something beneath it which only _he_ could explain. I waited
patiently. It was much more than life and death to this man.

The next thing that impressed me was that there was not the least
confusion in his evidence or in himself. His tone, his language, could
only be the result of conscious innocence.

It was not very long before I gathered that he was the victim of
a cruel and cowardly conspiracy. It was absolutely a case of
_blackmailing, and nothing else_.

I believed every word the man said, and so did the jury. His evidence
_acquitted him_. He was saved from an ignominious doom by the new Act,
and from that moment I went heart and soul with it: however much it
may be a danger to the guilty, it is of the utmost importance to the
innocent.

This case was not finished without a little touch of humour. When
half-past seven arrived--an hour on circuit at which I always
considered it too early to adjourn--the jury thought it looked very
like an "all-night sitting," although I had no such intention, and one
of their body or of the Bar, I forget which, raised the question on a
motion for the adjournment of the house.

I was asked, I know, by some impatient member of the Bar whether a
case in which _he_ was engaged could not go over till the morning.

This gave immense encouragement to an independent juryman, who
evidently was determined to beard the lion in his den, and possibly
shake off "the dewdrops of his British indignation."

I never believed in British lions, except on his Majesty's
quarterings; and although they look very formidable in heraldry, I
never found them so in fact. Indeed, if the British lion was ever a
native of the British Isles, he must have become extinct, for I have
never heard so much as an imitation growl from him except in Hyde Park
on a Sunday.

The British lion, however, in this case seemed to assert himself in
the jury-box, and rising on his hind legs, said in a husky voice,
which appeared to come from some concealed cupboard in his bosom,--

"My lord!"

"Yes?" I said in my blandest manner.

"My lord, this 'ere ---- is a little bit stiff, my lord, with all
respect for