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302 for his dinner, but which the keeper had purposely placed beyond his reach. Astonishment, however, predominated over ferocity. The wretched man could not evidently bring himself to comprehend that the truth must come out at last—and in his case it was his hired agent who was the instrument of unveiling his atrocity to the eyes of the world. I am afraid that he uttered a very forcible expression; but I know that he brought down his clenched fist violently on the desk before him, almost in contact with Dr. Lobb’s ear. Mrs. Barber uttered a faint scream, and buried her face in her hands. Mr. Lamb started up with great spirit to protect his client from the first outburst of this wretched man’s anger; and, finally, Sir Cresswell administered to him an admirable rebuke, which I shall never forget to my dying day. I need not here set it forth at length, but the spirit of it was “that if Mr. Barber could not command his passions here in a Court of Justice—where he, Sir C. C. was sitting, with the force of the British Empire at his back—what were the Jury to think his former conduct must have been, when a feeble and defenceless woman was in his power, in the silent hour of night, far away from all human help?” Finally Mr. Barber was informed that any renewal of his violence in that Court would lead, as a simple, inevitable, and instant result, to his incarceration for an unlimited term in one of Her Majesty’s gaols. It could not be said, on the whole, that Dr. L. and his fierce client had come off the victors in the fourth round. From this moment it seemed to me that the Jury had made up their minds.

Dr. Lobb did all that he could, and that all amounted just to a faint endeavour to turn the subject by a playful allusion to the fate of the unhappy lap-dog Fido; but before he could get out three sentences he was stopped by the old Judge, and informed, that as all allusion to this point had been struck off his notes during the examination in chief, he, Dr. Lobb, was not at liberty to cross-examine upon it. The Doctor was was obviously losing heart, for he had not yet succeeded in establishing a single point. The incident of the hair at Brussels went off very much like that of the incident of the bootjack at Cheltenham—there was an obvious absence in Dr. L.’s method of handling the point of that delicacy of manipulation which characterised any case which had passed through the hands of the firm of “ and .” No dainty vision of a young uxorious husband just snipping off an end of the silken and perfumed tresses of a young angel in a dressing gown, that he might enshrine the stolen treasure in a golden casket, and wear it upon his adoring heart, was conjured up before the mind of the British Jury—there were no hot-rolls—no tongue and chicken—no purring cat—no domestic