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Updated: June 14, 2025
The witness grinned incredulously, revealing thereby a few blackened fragments of teeth. "I 've tuck up more 'n a hundred niggers fer stealin', Kurnel, an' I never seed one yit that did n' 'ny it ter the las'." "Answer my question. Might not the witness's indignation have been a manifestation of conscious innocence? Yes or no?" "Yes, it mought, an' the moon mought fall but it don't."
Reminded that Sheriff Crown had testified to searching the witness's room and had discovered that a nail file was missing from his dressing case, a file which, judging by other articles in the case, must have been the same size as the one used in making the amateur dagger, Russell declared that his file had been lost for three years.
There was, however, a wide difference between assuming that a portion of the conversation had escaped a witness's memory and disbelieving all that witness's evidence. As the counsel for the Crown had said, if he had not, as he swore, warned me, and I had not, as he swore, refused to listen to his warning, then Sir John Bell was a moral monster.
"Si-lence!" exclaimed a sonorous voice, belonging to a punchy body, a tall wand, and a black bombasin gown; and immediately afterwards, "a friend of the prisoner's, my lord. Get into that box speak loud look at his lordship. Si-lence!" The individual who caused this little excitement, and who now ascended the witness's tribune, was a labouring man.
As he drew near him the man paused, struck a match and looked at his watch, and he saw that it was Mr. Holymead. Witness's suspicions in regard to a trap having been laid for Birchill were strengthened, and he decided to ascertain what was in the wind. He crept through the plantation to the edge of the garden in front of the house. From there he could hear voices in a room upstairs.
The appeal only rendered them more cautious, and more determined to protect themselves against charges of unfair proceedings. "Have you any further questions to put to the witness, prisoner?" inquired the president of the court. "None at present, sir we will go on, if you please, gentlemen." "Call Ithuel Bolt," said the Judge Advocate, reading the new witness's name from a list before him.
Holymead made some effective use of the discrepancy between the witness's evidence at the inquest as to his movements on the night of the murder and his evidence in court. He elicited the fact that the police had discovered his evidence at the inquest was false and had forced him to make a confession by threatening to arrest him for the murder. Mr.
't is himself cares little about them!" showed they had no lack of confidence in the piper. "Your name is M'Keown, sir?" said the lawyer, with that abruptness which so often succeeds in oversetting the balance of a witness's self-possession. "Yes, sir; Darby M'Keown." "Did you ever go by any other than this?" "They do call me 'Darby the Blast' betimes, av that 'a a name."
Not a man in that court would have taken Dr. Mirandolet for anything but a foreigner, and for a foreigner who knew next to nothing of England and the English, and John Purdie, whose interest was now thoroughly aroused, was surprised as he heard the witness's answer to the necessary preliminary questions.
The persons so generously suspected were discussing a parchment Alfred had produced, and wanted signed: "You are our trustee, my boy," said he to Edward: "so just write your name here, and mine comes here, and the witness's there: the Doctor and Sarah will do. Send for a pen." "Let's read it first, please." "Read it! What for?" "Catch me signing a paper without reading it, my boy."
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