"Do you think that it was under such an impression, and with such an object that I gave my testimony?" "Certainly I do." The Crown asked protection for the wit ness; members of the bar declared that Costelloe was going too far in thus insulting a respectable witness, but the Court did not interfere. The Counsel stood quite indiffer ent during the objections and protests and then continued: "You swear, sir, that those identical pieces of gold in your hand this moment—where are they?" he asked the solicitor for the Crown. The ducats were again handed to the witness, and Costelloe resumed: "You swear, sir, that those identical pieces were in the prisoner's keeping? Now mind you, you are on your oath.'7 "I do swear it." "Hand me those coins, sir," said Costelloe, angrily. The Counsellor took them and looked at them as though he acknowledger! defeat. Not a sound was heard in that court room, save a sigh from Costelloe as he- asked in a low, dejected voice: "You have sworn positively, sir, and it will be well for you, if truly. Here, sir, take your blood money." Costelloe stretched out his hand, his face was' turned away as though he would hide his emotion from the witness and as he let the coins fall, they went, by the merest acci dent apparently, into his clerk's hat. "I very humbly beg your pardon, sir," he said to the witness, "I am very sorry.'1 Then putting his hand in the hat he took up a single piece, looked at it, and asked: "You persist in swearing, sir, that this identi cal piece of money, the property of Mr. Gleadowe, was in the keeping of the prisoner and was found on him when arrested?" "I swear it." "Take the coin, man, how dare you swear away a man's life in that manner? How can
you swear to a coin unless you can see it?" The witness took the ducat and, his face red with anger, his voice tremulous, looked at the coin and said: "I swear it." "And this also?" presenting another. "Yes." "And this?" "Yes." "Take care, sir. And this, and this, and this?" continued Costelloe, handing the coins quickly to the witness up to the number ot ten. "Yes." "And this, and this, and this?" continued Costelloe, producing from the hat twenty other ducats bearing the same date as the first ten. The witness was dazed, his hair stood on end. He had sworn that only ten ducats had been in the strong chest of the bank and now thirty were produced. "Look at them," shouted the Counsellor, "are they not all of the same date, of the same quality and you only can swear to the first ten?" The Crown prosecutor looked amazed, the case had fallen through, the prisoner was saved. When Costelloe had examined the foreign coins at the Crown office on the day the prisoner was arrested, he had mentally noted the date and appearance of the coins. On the evening of that day his confidential clerk sailed for Liverpool, and from thence by mail coach to London, from which port he took a passage on a packet to Rotterdam, where he bought twenty ducats of the dates identi cal with those of the stolen pieces. He re turned to Dublin and enabled Costelloe to make the ingenious defence which saved a guilty cashier from the gallows. Costelloe amassed considerable wealth and a peculiar notoriety. It was said of him, by a judge, that he "knew more criminals than all the judges had ever tried, and had shared in enough plunder to build a city."
