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.