The Trial [112]
but the witness had never known him give it out of his own hand, nor take a receipt in it. Had not seen it on the morning of the 6th, nor subsequently. Could not account for the sum found on the person of the prisoner, whose salary was L50 per annum, and who had no private resources, except the interest of L2000, which, he being a minor, was not in his own hands. Deceased was fond of amassing sovereigns, and would often keep them for a longtime in the drawer of his desk, as much as from L50 to L100. There was none there when the desk was opened on the 6th of July, though there had certainly been gold there two days previously. It was kept locked. It had a small Bramah key, which his uncle wore on his watch-chain, in his waistcoat pocket. The drawer was locked when he saw it on the morning of the 6th. The Doctor, who had joined his children, gave a deep respiration, and relaxed the clenching of his hand, as this witness went down. Then it came to the turn of Aubrey Spencer May. The long waiting, after his nerves had been wound up, had been a severe ordeal, and his delicacy of constitution and home breeding had rendered him peculiarly susceptible. With his resemblance to his father in form and expression, it was like seeing the Doctor denuded of that shell of endurance with which he had contrived to conceal his feelings. The boy was indeed braced to resolution, bat the resolution was equally visible with the agitation in the awe-stricken brow, varying colour, tightened breath, and involuntary shiver, as he took the oath. Again Leonard looked up with one of his clear bright glances, and perhaps a shade of anxiety; but Aubrey, for his own comfort, was too short-sighted for meeting of eyes from that distance. Seeing his agitation, and reckoning on his evidence, the counsel gave him time, by minutely asking if his double Christian name were correctly given, his age, and if he were not the son of Dr. May. 'You were the prisoner's school-fellow, I believe?' 'No,' faltered Aubrey. 'But you live near him?' 'We are friends,' said Aubrey, with sudden firmness and precision; and from the utterance of that emphatic _are_, his spirit returned. 'Did you often see him?' 'On most Sundays, after church.' 'Did you ever hear him say he had any thoughts of the means of leaving the mill privately?' 'Something like it,' said Aubrey, turning very red. 'Can you tell me the words?' 'He said if things went on, that I was not to be surprised if I heard non est inventus,' said Aubrey, speaking as if rapidity would conceal the meaning of the words, but taken aback by being made to repeat and translate them to the jury. 'And did he mention any way of escaping?' 'He said the window and cedar-tree were made for it, and that he often went out that way to bathe,' said Aubrey. 'When did this conversation take place?' 'On Sunday, the 22nd of June,' said Aubrey, in despair, as the Crown lawyer thanked him, and sat down. He felt himself betrayed into having made their talk wear the air of deliberate purpose, and having said not one word of what Mr. Bramshaw had hailed as hopeful. However, the defending barrister rose up to ask him what he meant by having answered 'Something like it.' 'Because,' said Aubrey, promptly, 'though we did make the scheme, we were neither of us in earnest.' 'How do you know the prisoner was not in earnest?' 'We often made plans of what we should like to do.' 'And had you any reason for thinking this one of such plans!' 'Yes,' said Aubrey; 'for he talked of getting gold enough to build up the market-cross, or else of going to see the Feejee Islands. 'Then you understood the prisoner not to express a deliberate purpose, so much as a vague design.' 'Just so,' said Aubrey. 'A design that depended on how things went on at the mill.' And being desired to explain his words, he added, that Leonard had said he could not bear the sight of Sam Axworthy's tyranny over the old man, and was resolved not to stay, if he were made a party to any of the dishonest tricks of the trade. 'In that case, did he say where he would have gone?' 'First