I wanted to see his condition." "Was it the grey mare ?" Had the defence changed places with the prosecution?
It looked like it; and Arthur looked as if he considered Mr.Moffat guilty of the unheard of, inexplainable act, of cross-examining his own witness.

The situation was too tempting for Mr.Fox to resist calling additional attention to it.

With an assumption of extreme consideration, he leaned forward and muttered under his breath to his nearest colleague, but still loud enough for those about him to hear: "The prisoner must know that he is not bound to answer questions when such answers tend to criminate him.".
A lightning glance, shot in his direction, was the eloquent advocate's sole reply.
But Arthur, nettled into speaking, answered the question put him, in a loud, quick tone: "It was not the grey mare; but I went up to the grey mare before going out; I patted her and bade her be a good girl." "Where was she then ?" "Where she belonged--in her stall." The tones had sunk; so had the previously lifted head; he no longer commanded universal sympathy or credence.

The effect of his former avowals was almost gone.
Yet Mr.Moffat could smile.

As I noticed this, and recognised the satisfaction it evinced, my heart went down, in great trouble.