And from
that corner he looked with renewed interest at the man who was presently
placed in the dock, and for the hundredth time asked himself what it was
in his face that woke some chord of memory in him.
There was nothing of the criminal in the accused man's appearance.
Apparently about thirty years of age, spare of figure, clean-shaven, of a
decidedly intellectual type of countenance, he looked like an actor. His
much-worn suit of tweed was well cut and had evidently been carefully
kept, in spite of its undoubtedly threadbare condition. It, and the worn
and haggard look of the man's face, denoted poverty, if not recent actual
privation, and the thought was present in more than one mind there in
possession of certain facts: if this man had really owned the ring which
he had offered to the pawnbroker, why had he delayed so long in placing
himself in funds through its means? For if his face expressed anything,
it was hunger.
Viner, who was now witnessing police-court proceedings for the first time
in his life, felt an almost morbid curiosity in hearing the tale unfolded
against the prisoner. For some reason, best known to themselves, the
police brought forward more evidence than was usual on first proceedings
before a magistrate.
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