Priam was Crepitude's own witness, and yet a horrible witness, a witness who had consistently and ferociously declined to open his mouth until he was in the box.

Assuredly he had nodded, in response to the whispered question of the solicitor's clerk, but he had not confirmed the nod, nor breathed a word of assistance during the three days of the trial.

He had merely sat there, blazing in silence.
"Your name is Priam Farll ?" began Crepitude.
"It is," said Priam sullenly, and with all the external characteristics of a liar.

At intervals he glanced surreptitiously at the judge, as though the judge had been a bomb with a lighted fuse.
The examination started badly, and it went from worse to worse.

The idea that this craven, prevaricating figure in the box could be the illustrious, the world-renowned Priam Farll, seemed absurd.