“Were there any other passengers in the mail?”

“Two.”

“Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?”

“They did.”

“Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two

passengers?”

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“I cannot undertake to say that he was.”

“Does he resemble either of those two passengers?”

“Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we

were all so reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that.”

“Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him

wrapped up as those two passengers were, is there anything in his

bulk and stature to render it unlikely that he was one of them?”

“No.”

“You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?”

“No.”

“So at least you say that he may have been one of them?”

“Yes. Except that I remember them both to have beenlike

myselftimorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a

timorous air.”

“Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?”

“I certainly have seen that.”

“Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen

him, to your certain knowledge, before?”

“I have.”

“When?”

“I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at

Calais, the prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I

returned, and made the voyage with me.”

“At what hour did he com