“Then came the evidence of Arthur Chipps, John Ashley’s valet.  It proved of a very sensational character.

“He deposed that on the night in question his master came home at about ten minutes to two.  Chipps had then not yet gone to bed.  Five minutes later Mr. Ashley went out again, telling the valet not to sit up for him.  Chipps could not say at what time either of the young gentlemen had come home.

“That short visit home—­presumably to fetch the revolver—­was thought to be very important, and Mr. John Ashley’s friends felt that his case was practically hopeless.

“The valet’s evidence and that of James Funnell, the constable, who had overheard the conversation near the park railings, were certainly the two most damning proofs against the accused.  I assure you I was having a rare old time that day.  There were two faces in court to watch which was the greatest treat I had had for many a day.  One of these was Mr. John Ashley’s.

“Here’s his photo—­short, dark, dapper, a little ‘racy’ in style, but otherwise he looks a son of a well-to-do farmer.  He was very quiet and placid in court, and addressed a few words now and again to his solicitor.  He listened gravely, and with an occasional shrug of the shoulders, to the recital of the crime, such as the police had reconstructed it, before an excited and horrified audience.

“Mr. John Ashley, driven to madness and frenzy by terrible financial difficulties, had first of all gone home in search of a weapon, then waylaid Mr. Aaron Cohen somewhere on that gentleman’s way home.  The young man had begged for delay.  Mr. Cohen perhaps was obdurate; but Ashley followed him with his importunities almost to his door.

“There, seeing his creditor determined at last to cut short the painful interview, he had seized the unfortunate man at an unguarded moment from behind, and strangled him; then, fearing that his dastardly work was not fully accomplished, he had shot twice at the already dead body, missing it both times from sheer nervous excitement.  The murderer then must have emptied his victim’s pockets, and, finding the key of the garden, thought that it would be a safe way of evading capture by cutting across the squares, under the tunnel, and so through the more distant gate which faced Portland Place.

“The loss of the revolver was one of those unforeseen accidents which a retributive Providence places in the path of the miscreant, delivering him by his own act of folly into the hands of human justice.

“Mr. John Ashley, however, did not appear the least bit impressed by the recital of his crime.  He had not engaged the services of one of the most eminent lawyers, expert at extracting contradictions from witnesses by skilful cross-examinations—­oh, dear me, no! he had been contented with those of a dull, prosy, very second-rate limb of the law, who, as he called his witnesses, was completely innocent of any desire to create a sensation.