I drove to Tite Street, hoping to see Oscar.  I was convinced that Carson had important witnesses at his command, and that the outcome of the case would be disastrous.  Why should not Oscar even now, this very evening, cross to Calais, leaving a letter for his counsel and the court abandoning the idiotic prosecution.

The house at Tite Street seemed deserted.  For some time no one answered my knocking and ringing, and then a man-servant simply told me that Mr. Wilde was not in:  he did not know whether Mr. Wilde was expected back or not; did not think he was coming back.  I turned and went home.  I thought Oscar would probably say to me again: 

“I can do nothing, Frank, nothing.”

* * * * *

The feeling in the court next morning was good tempered, even jaunty.  The benches were filled with young barristers, all of whom had made up their minds that the testimony would be what one of them called “nifty.”  Everyone treated the case as practically over.

“But will Carson call witnesses?” I asked.

“Of course he will,” they said, “but in any case Wilde does not stand a ghost of a chance of getting a verdict against Queensberry; he was a bally fool to bring such an action.”

“The question is,” said someone, “will Wilde face the music?”

My heart leapt.  Perhaps he had gone, fled already to France to avoid this dreadful, useless torture.  I could see the hounds with open mouths, dripping white fangs, and greedy eyes all closing in on the defenceless quarry.  Would the huntsman give the word?  We were not left long in doubt.

Mr. Carson continued his statement for the defence.  He had sufficiently demonstrated to the jury, he thought, that, so far as Lord Queensberry was concerned, he was absolutely justified in bringing to a climax in the way he had, the connection between Mr. Oscar Wilde and his son.  A dramatic pause.

A moment later the clever advocate resumed:  unfortunately he had a more painful part of the case to approach.  It would be his painful duty to bring before them one after the other the young men he had examined Mr. Wilde about and allow them to tell their tales.  In no one of these cases were these young men on an equality in any way with Mr. Wilde.  Mr. Wilde had told them that there was something beautiful and charming about youth which led him to make these acquaintances.  That was a travesty of the facts.  Mr. Wilde preferred to know nothing of these young men and their antecedents.  He knew nothing about Wood; he knew nothing about Parker; he knew nothing about Scarfe, nothing about Conway, and not much about Taylor.  The truth was Taylor was the procurer for Mr. Wilde and the jury would hear from this young man Parker, who would have to tell his unfortunate story to them, that he was poor, out of a place, had no money, and unfortunately fell a victim to Mr. Wilde. (Sir Edward Clarke here left the court.)