For several days the case continued, and everything seemed to be
going in the plaintiff's favour. Major Blank, the defendant's husband,
was ruthlessly cross-examined by Sir Charles Russell, afterwards Lord
Chief Justice of England, with a view to showing that he was the real
thief. He made a very bad witness, and things looked black against him.
The end was nearing, and every one anticipated a verdict in the
plaintiff's favour, when there came a sudden change of scene. The stolen
pearl had been sold to a firm of jewellers, who had recorded the numbers
of the Bank of England notes with which they paid for it. One of these
notes was produced in court, and lo! it was endorsed with the name of
the plaintiff.[3] In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole
edifice of mendacity and perjury fell to pieces. The thief was arrested
and imprisoned; but the peripety for her was less terrible than for her
husband, who had married her in chivalrous faith in her innocence.
Would it have been--or may it some day prove to be--possible to transfer
this "well-made" drama of real life bodily to the stage? I am inclined
to think not.
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