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Chapter XI. The Case for the Prosecution
”
“Ah!Intheeventofanythinghappeningtoyourbrother,whowillinheritStylesCourt?”
ThebrutalityofthequestioncalledaflushtoLawrence’spaleface.Thejudgegaveventtoafaintmurmurofdisapprobation,andtheprisonerinthedockleantforwardangrily.
Heavywethercarednothingforhisclient’sanger.
“Answermyquestion,ifyouplease.”
“Isuppose,”saidLawrencequietly,“thatIshould.”
“Whatdoyoumeanbyyou‘suppose’?Yourbrotherhasnochildren.Youwouldinheritit,wouldn’tyou?”
“Yes.”
“Ah,that’sbetter,”saidHeavywether,withferociousgeniality.“Andyou’dinheritagoodsliceofmoneytoo,wouldn’tyou?”
“Really,SirErnest,”protestedthejudge,“thesequestionsarenotrelevant.”
SirErnestbowed,andhavingshothisarrowproceeded.
“OnTuesday,the17thJuly,youwent,Ibelieve,withanotherguest,tovisitthedispensaryattheRedCrossHospitalinTadminster?”
“Yes.”
“Didyou—whileyouhappenedtobealoneforafewseconds—unlockthepoisoncupboard,andexaminesomeofthebottles?”
“I—I—mayhavedoneso.”
“Iputittoyouthatyoudiddoso?”
“Yes.”
SirErnestfairlyshotthenextquestionathim.
“Didyouexamineonebottleinparticular?”
“No,Idonotthinkso.”
“Becareful,Mr.Cavendish.IamreferringtoalittlebottleofHydro-chlorideofStrychnine.”
Lawrencewasturningasicklygreenishcolour.
“N—o—IamsureIdidn’t.
