Lawrence Cavendish was then put into the box. In a low voice, in answer to Mr. Philips’ questions, he denied having ordered anything from Parkson’s in June. In fact, on June 29th, he had been staying away, in Wales.

Instantly, Sir Ernest’s chin was shooting pugnaciously forward.

“You deny having ordered a black beard from Parkson’s on June 29th?”

“I do.”

“Ah! In the event of anything happening to your brother, who will inherit Styles Court?”

The brutality of the question called a flush to Lawrence’s pale face. The judge gave vent to a faint murmur of disapprobation, and the prisoner in the dock leant forward angrily.

Heavywether cared nothing for his client’s anger.