"Gentlemen, the prisoner at the bar is clearly and distinctly charged
with the murder of one Francis Thornhill, and instead of any evidence,
near or remote, fixing that deed upon him, we have nothing but long
stories about vaults, and bad odours in churches, and moveable
floor-boards, and chairs standing on their heads, and vaults, and secret
passages, and pork pies! Really, gentlemen of the jury, I do think that
the manner in which this prosecution has been got up against my virtuous
and pious client, is an outrage to your common-sense." Todd rather looked up at this. It was something to hear even an Old
Bailey counsel call him virtuous and pious; and a gleam of hope shot
across his heart that things might not be quite so hard with him after
all. "This, gentlemen of the jury," continued the counsel, "is an attempt, I
must say, to take the life of a man from a variety of circumstances
external to the real charge to which he is called upon here to plead. Let us examine the sort of evidence upon which it has been thought
proper to put a fellow-creature to this bar upon a charge affecting his
life. "In the first place, we are told that a number of very respectable men
went out from their various respectable houses, and never went back
again. Pray, what has that to do with the death of one Francis
Thornhill? Then we are told that the respectable men went to get shaved;
and then that Sir Richard Blunt had a shave no less than eight times at
the prisoner's shop, and yet here he is quite alive and well to give his
evidence here to-day, and no one will say that Sir Richard Blunt is not
a respectable man. Then we have a bad smell in the church of St.
Dunstan's. Really, gentlemen of the jury, you might as well say that the
prisoner at the bar committed felony, because this court was not well
ventilated. "We are told, to come more particularly to the evidence, such as it is,
bearing upon the case, that Francis Thornhill left a certain shop
intending to go into the City to a Miss Oakley, and that on the road he
went into the prisoner's shop to be shaved, and from that we are asked
to infer that he was murdered there, because nobody saw him come out. Really, this is too bad! Hundreds of people may have seen him come out,
and no doubt did do so, but they happened not to know him, and so just
because no one was passing who could say, 'Ah! Mr. Thornhill, how do you
do? I see, you have had a clean shave to-day,' the prisoner at the bar
is to be declared guilty of murder. "Then we are told a long story about a bone, and that is declared to be
a bone of the deceased. Gentlemen of the jury, what would you think of a
man who should produce a brick, and swear that it belonged to a certain
house? But this bone is to be identified on account of having been
fractured, when the medical witness swears that such fractures are far
from rare. "Then again, a hat said to be the hat of the deceased is sworn to, as
belonging to him, because of some injury it had received. Granted that
it did belong to him. No doubt he sold it in Fleet Street and bought a
new one, and there is no proof that that hat produced is the same one
that is said to have been taken out of the prisoner's shop. "I do think, gentlemen, that you will see upon what a string of
sophistry the evidence against the prisoner at the bar rests. Who shall
take upon himself to say that Mr. Thornhill is not now alive and well
somewhere? We all know that persons connected with the sea are rather
uncertain in their movements. But, gentlemen, the prisoner at the bar
has a plain unvarnished tale to tell, which will clear him from any
suspicions." At this point, the learned counsel hitched up his gown upon his
shoulders, and settled his wig upon his head, as though preparing for a
grand effort, and then he continued--

"Gentlemen of the jury, my client is a religious man, as any one may see
by the mild and gentlemanly look of his amiable countenance. He took the
premises in Fleet Street in the pursuit of his highly useful calling;
and he had no more idea that there was a moveable board in his shop, and
that his shaving-chair would go down with any one, than the child
unborn. Is it likely that a man who could stoop to such baseness as to
make money by murder would occupy himself with such a trivial employment
as shaving for a penny? The deceased gentleman, Mr. Francis Thornhill,
if he be deceased at all, came into my worthy client's shop to be
shaved, and was, at that time, a little the worse for some small drops
that he had indulged himself with, no doubt, as he came along. The
prisoner at the bar did shave him; and then he said that he had to go
and see a young lady, and that he should buy a new hat as he went along. The dog, about which so much has been said, came into the shop along
with his master, and while the shaving was going on found out, and
actually devoured, half a pound of tripe, off which the prisoner at the
bar was going to make his humble dinner. "Oh! gentlemen of the jury, ask yourselves if a murderer is likely to
make half a pound of tripe satisfy him for dinner! Ask your own
consciences, and your own common-sense, that question. "Well, gentlemen of the jury, when he was shaved, and after my client
had had to turn this dog twice out of his shop, Mr. Thornhill left and
went towards Fleet Market. The prisoner watched him from his door, and
actually saw him begin fighting with a porter at the top of the market;
and then as another person came in to be shaved, the prisoner at the bar
returned into his shop to attend to that customer, and saw no more of
Mr. Thornhill. In the course of a quarter of an hour, however, the dog
pushed the door of the shop open, and brought in a hat in his mouth, but
the prisoner turned him out again, and that is all he knows of the
transaction. "Gentlemen of the jury, the prisoner at the bar is well known for his
benevolence and his piety. Even at a time when the bad odour in St.
Dunstan's induced many of the parishioners to go elsewhere, he always
attended his own church, and in the most pious and exemplary manner made
the responses. I ask you as men, gentlemen of the jury, if you could do
that with the consciousness that you had committed a murder? "Gentlemen, it is for my client a most unfortunate thing that a person
named Lovett, who kept the pie-shop in Bell Yard, is not now in the land
of the living. If she were so, there is no doubt but that she would have
told some true tale of how the vaults beneath the old church connected
with her shop, and so have cleared the prisoner at the bar of all
participation in her crimes. "That murder has been committed in conjunction with that woman, who
committed suicide rather than come forward and clear the prisoner at the
bar, against whom she had a spite, there can be no doubt; but,
gentlemen, it is the wrong man who now stands at this bar.