Already there were whisperings going on in the crowded court; he felt that these country folk, always quick to form suspicions, were beginning to ask themselves if there was not something dark and sinister behind the mystery of Kitely's murder, and he was callous enough--from a purely professional standpoint--to care nothing if they began to form ideas about Miss Pett.

For Brereton knew that nothing is so useful in the breaking-down of one prejudice as to set up another, and his great object just then was to divert primary prejudice away from his client.
Nevertheless, nothing, he knew well, could at that stage prevent Harborough's ultimate committal--unless Harborough himself chose to prove the _alibi_ of which he had boasted.

But Harborough refused to do anything towards that, and when the case had been adjourned for a week, and the prisoner removed to a cell pending his removal to Norcaster gaol, a visit from Brereton and Avice in company failed to move him.
"It's no good, my girl; it's no good, sir," he said, when both had pleaded with him to speak.

"I'm determined! I shall not say where I was last night." "Tell me--in secret--and then leave me to make use of the knowledge, also in secret," urged Brereton.
"No, sir--once for all, no!" answered Harborough.

"There's no necessity.
I may be kept locked up for a bit, but the truth about this matter'll come out before ever I'm brought to trial--or ought to be.