the winter assizes at dulminster were held early in december, so that john brancker had not many weeks to lie in prison before being called upon to stand his trial for the murder of james hazeldine. the grand jury found a true bill against the prisoner, and one crisp, sunny morning, john found himself in a sort of a pen in the centre of a densely crowded court, the one object on which several hundred pairs of curious eyes, some of them helped by opera-glasses, were focused. he was pale, but quite composed, and when called upon in the usual form to plead to the indictment, his low but emphatic "not guilty" was clearly audible to everyone there.

his sister and his niece had been permitted to have an interview with him on the eve of the trial, and he had contrived to infuse into them some of the courage which he felt, or professed to feel, as to the morrow's result. they were staying with some friends in close street, and clement hazeldine, who had given his patients into the charge of a brother practitioner for a couple of days, had arranged to send them frequent messages from the court during the progress of the trial. the prisoner's defence had been entrusted to the hands of the well-known mr. burgees, with whom was mr. timperly as junior. mr. mulgrave had been specially retained as counsel for the crown.

it was none other than the murdered man's eldest son who had retained mr. burgees to defend the prisoner. this was a point which had been much commented upon by the good people of ashdown, and one that had told strongly with them in john brancker's favor. if a clear, hard-headed man of the world like edward hazeldine had such faith in his innocence, how would it be possible for any jury to bring him in guilty? then again, was it not a well-known fact that the younger son, clement, was a frequent visitor at mr. brancker's house, and among such of the wiseacres as made it their business to pry into every little matter in any way connected with the affair, there were not wanting whispers of an engagement between the young doctor and the accused man's niece. no, john brancker must be an innocent man, they decided among themselves; and yet, on the face of it, the evidence against him seemed terribly conclusive, nor, so far as was known, had anything likely to shake it been brought to light since the date of the prisoner's committal. strenuous efforts had been made to find the man and woman whom john stated that he had encountered, quarrelling fiercely, while on his way back from strong's cottage, and one of whom, the woman, had flung a stone at him, which had contused his forehead. but nowhere could any traces of them be found, neither had the offer of a reward, if they would come forward and give evidence, been productive of any result.

on the morning of the trial edward hazeldine drove over to dulminster in his dog-cart, and put up his horse at the "eagle" hotel, which is exactly opposite the court-house. his intention had been to find a seat near the counsel for the defence, but he abandoned the idea at the last moment. happening to look at himself in the glass he started at the sight of his haggard visage, and this morning his hands trembled so much that not for a hundred pounds could he have signed his own name. he felt that he could not face the ordeal of the court, that he could not bear the scrutiny of the crowd of coldly-curious eyes which would focus themselves on him as being the eldest son of the murdered man. he hired a private room on the first floor overlooking the entrance to the court, and arranged for a messenger to bring him half-hourly tidings of the progress of the trial; and there he sat throughout the day, with a decanter of brandy at his elbow, he who, under ordinary circumstances, was one of the most abstemious of men. he had his father's letter buttoned up in the breast-pocket of his coat. it was not expected that the trial would extend over more than one day, and he had arranged that the moment the jury brought in their verdict its purport should be made known to him. then, if the fatal word "guilty" were pronounced, he would at once rush across to the court, and before the judge would have had time to assume the black cap, he would proclaim to the world the innocence of the man at the bar. his fevered imagination rehearsed the scene again and again, always with some fresh features or added details, but always he seemed to see the horror that would creep into the eyes of that vast crowd as he told his tale word by word, and proclaimed himself for the vile coward that he was.

there was one other person, ephraim judd, to wit, who had also made up his mind that, should the prisoner at the bar be adjudged guilty, he must at once crave leave to speak, and to tell all present certain things which were known to himself alone, but which would go far towards proving the innocence of john brancker. he must relate how he saw the prisoner leave the bank, when the latter went to fetch his umbrella, within five minutes of the time he entered it. he must explain all about the blood-smears in the prisoner's drawer, and the marks on the floor. he must confess to what he saw when he looked through the fan-light over mr. hazeldine's office door. he was fully alive to the fact that to do this would be to effect his own ruin, he was quite aware that he ought to have told all he knew at the first examination before the coroner; at that time he had been deterred from speaking by a fear of the consequences which would accrue to himself, but should the worst come to the worst, no such fear should hold him back to-day. be the consequences to himself what they might, john brancker must not be condemned to die, until he, ephraim judd, had told all that which he had till now so carefully hidden. it was in no enviable frame of mind that he walked down to the court on the morning of the trial.

it is not needful that any detailed account should be given here of the progress of the trial. the evidence of the various witnesses was little more than a recapitulation of that given by them at the inquest. no fresh facts had come to light in the interim, neither did the cross-examination of the witnesses tend to elicit any further point which told materially either for or against the prisoner. as before, brill, the man from whom the knife had been purchased by which mr. hazeldine had come by his death, would neither swear positively that the prisoner was the man to whom he had sold the weapon, nor that he was not. he, the prisoner, was like the man, and yet he wasn't like the man; he couldn't be positive, and he wouldn't take an oath one way or the other.

william strong, the organ-blower, was still as positive as ever that he had not left home on the night of the murder, and that if the prisoner had knocked at the door of his cottage he could not have failed to hear him.

ephraim judd, obed and amanda sweet, doctor barton and mr. mace, were each called upon in turn, and were each submitted to a cross-examination more or less severe, which, however, in no case brought to light anything of consequence tending to the exculpation of the prisoner.

last of all, two people who had not been examined at the inquest were called and sworn. the first of them was a clerk from the bank of england, who deposed to having changed notes for gold to the amount of twelve hundred pounds on the day of the murder, and who, on being shown a photograph of mr. hazeldine, recognized it as a likeness of the person for whom he had effected the exchange in question.

the second person who was called upon was mr. avison. he had no positive evidence to offer in the case, beyond the fact that the bank had been robbed of an amount a little in excess of four thousand pounds; but what the counsel for the prosecution was desirous of eliciting from him was his opinion as to whether such a crime, considered in all its bearings, could have been perpetrated by anyone who was not well acquainted with the habits of the murdered man, as well as with the working of the inner machinery of the bank. mr. avison was clearly of opinion that the crime was the result of a carefully arranged plan, the inception, if not the carrying out, of which was due to someone who had an intimate knowledge of certain details, such as it was next to impossible for any outsider to have.

the examination of mr. avison brought the evidence to an end. then a number of witnesses were called to testify to the accused man's character, among the rest being mr. avison. this might have gone on for an indefinite time if the judge had not at length expressed himself as being perfectly satisfied that it was impossible for any man's character to stand higher in the estimation of those who had known him intimately for years than that of the prisoner at the bar. then, after the counsel on both sides had been heard, his lordship proceeded to charge the jury.

this he did in a dispassionate and unbiassed manner, reviewing the evidence carefully, weighing each item in the judicial scales, and giving to each its just preponderance as it told for or against the prisoner. he was most careful in pointing out that the evidence was entirely of a circumstantial character. on the one hand, there was the certainty that the crime was committed some time between half-past ten o'clock and half-past eleven, and the fact that the prisoner entered the bank by means of his pass-key about twenty minutes past ten and did not reach home till close upon midnight; and that the account he gave of having walked all the way to strong's house during that interval of time, and of having knocked at his door, was, so far as regarded the latter part of the prisoner's assertion, emphatically denied by strong himself.

then there were the blood-smears in his private drawer at the office and on the floor, close by, for which he professed himself utterly unable to account. then again, the facts of the case would seem clearly to indicate that the criminal was thoroughly acquainted both with the murdered man's habits as also with the interior economy of the bank--that he knew where to look for the key of the strong-room, and on which day of the week the largest amount of gold was to be found there. he, the judge, advised the jury not to attach too much importance to the evidence of brill, the man who sold the knife. his experience had led him to the conclusion that it was impossible to be too cautious in accepting evidence as to personal identity, more especially after any considerable lapse of time; and brill had very rightly declined to swear to a point as to which his memory was evidently at fault.

there were several points in the prisoner's favor, his lordship went on to remark, to which the jury would not fail to give due weight in their deliberations. in the first place, there was the entire absence of any conceivable motive on the prisoner's part tending to the commission of such a crime. he and the murdered man had been friends and fellow-workers for years, and, as far as was known, they had always been on the best of terms towards each other. further, none of the stolen property had been traced home to the prisoner; although, of course, it was no very difficult matter to hide away a large sum in notes and gold where it would be next to impossible for anyone to find it. finally, the testimony they had heard given to the very high character borne by the prisoner, was a point which would doubtless receive due consideration at their hands.

it was five o'clock when the jury quitted the court, and it wanted twenty minutes to seven when they returned. as soon as miss brancker and hermia heard that the jury had retired to consider their verdict, they left the house in close street, where they had been staying, and accompanied by clement hazeldine, made their way to the court-house where, through clem's influence, they were accommodated with seats in a private room. as the slow minutes passed without bringing any news, the strain upon them grew almost too intense to be endured.

clement was utterly perplexed by the non-appearance of his brother. from hour to hour he looked for him, but in vain. surely, edward would have let nothing less than illness keep him away! clem had felt very grateful to him for his outspoken championship of john brancker, although, perhaps, knowing as he did something of the hardness of his brother's character, he had been a little surprised at the attitude taken up by him from the first day of the inquiry. somehow, it scarcely seemed to harmonize with the idea of edward, which had unconsciously formulated itself in his mind; but that, as he told himself, only served to prove what erroneous views one may form even of those who are closest to us, and whom we flatter ourselves we know and understand best.

his lordship, the jury, and the prisoner being all back in their places, and silence having been proclaimed in court, the foreman of the jury, in reply to the usual question put by the clerk of arraigns, said, in a voice which every ear there was strained to catch:

"we find the prisoner at the bar 'not guilty.'"

a murmur that seemed half a sigh at first ran through the crowd, and then swiftly rose and swelled into a great cheer, such as the rafters of the old court-house had rarely, if ever, echoed before.

three minutes later his sister's arms were round john brancker's neck, while edward hazeldine's messenger was speeding to him with the good news.

john stayed in a private room until the court had emptied and the crowd dispersed. he was particularly anxious to reach home with as little observation as possible, so it was arranged that he and his sister and hermia, with clement hazeldine by way of escort, should be driven to ashdown in a fly, instead of returning by train.

accordingly, a fly was brought, and john brancker stepped out into the open air a free man. for a few moments the sensation was overpowering; a mental vertigo possessed him; but clem's strong arm was within his, supporting him, and presently the feeling passed. they were all in the fly, a constable had shut the door, and the driver was on the point of starting, when a figure sprang out of the darkness into the circle of light radiated by the lamp over the court-house door, and pushing his way through the little crowd of officials, laid a detaining hand on the vehicle. the lamplight brought into relief a haggard, sinister-looking face and two furtive, red-rimmed eyes.

"mr. brancker, sir," said the fellow, speaking in hoarse, drink-sodden tones, "if such a wretch as i may be allowed to thank heaven for anything, then i thank it that you are once more a free man. you don't remember me, perhaps? i am richard varell, your old clerk. ah, you recollect me now. changed, ain't i? but no matter about that. from the first i swore that whoever else might be guilty of mr. hazeldine's death, you at least were innocent. as for him--curse him!--he hounded me to my ruin, and he deserved his fate. for him no pity is needed. but as for you, sir, i say again, thank heaven you are free!" he threw up one arm as though it were a signal of farewell, and falling back, was lost next moment in the darkness.

that night edward hazeldine slept a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time since his father's death.