"
"And I," murmured Cleek, taking in the trim contour and the keen eyes of
this man who was to have been Merriton's father-in-law--if things had
turned out differently. He found he rather liked his looks.
"There is nothing--one can do?" Brellier's voice was politely anxious,
and he spread out his hands in true French fashion then tugged at his
closely clipped iron-gray beard.
"Anything that you know, Mr. Brellier, that would perhaps be of help, you
can say--in the witness box. We are looking for people who know anything
of the whole distressing tragedy. You can help that way, and that way
alone. For myself," he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't for an instant
believe Sir Nigel to be guilty. I can't, somehow. And yet--if you knew
the evidence against him--!"
A sob came suddenly from 'Toinette, and Brellier gently led her away. It
was a terrible ordeal for her, but she had insisted on coming--fearing,
hoping that she might be of use to Nigel in the witness box. By the time
they reached the great, crowded room, with its table set at the far end,
its empty chairs, and the platform upon which the two bodies lay shrouded
in their black coverings, she was crying, though plainly struggling for
self possession.
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