A similar admission was obtained from Tom’s old friend and enemy, the hackney-coachman, who first swore to the prisoner as the man who had stopped his coach overnight, and was then examined as to the entertainment of prisoner in his house next morning, and his ultimate flight therefrom. Tom saw his counsel’s eyelids twitching before he rose, and he anticipated one at least of the three successive points now scored in his favour.
“When the prisoner sat at your breakfast-table,” began Culliford, “did you then, or at any subsequent moment, notice anything in the nature of a blood-stain upon his clothes or person?”
“No, sir, I can’t say that I did.”
“Can you say that you did not?”
Witness hesitated but told the truth.
“No,” said he, “I saw no signs of blood upon him, either then or afterwards.”
“You saw no signs of blood upon the prisoner either then or afterwards. You are quite positive, however, that the man who waylaid your fare in the Finchley Road was the prisoner in the dock?”
“Quite positive.”
“Then didn’t you recognise him in the morning when your brother-in-law brought him to your house?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“What! Not when he was sitting at your own breakfast-table?”
“I did not.”
“Nor yet when you gave him the newspaper, and he read you an account of the very crime with which he stands indicted? You suspected nothing, saw nothing suspicious in his manner, nothing familiar in his face?”
