At length, the day of the celebrated trial of Wyckliffe v. Morris and Winter dawned. Never since the days of the trial of Ned Kelly had popular excitement been so keen. The newspapers were full of the case. It was the absorbing topic throughout the colonies, and the conjectures as to the result were numerous.

The Melbourne Law Courts are housed in a huge building, which cost hundreds of thousands of pounds, and is acknowledged to be the largest in the Colonies. But it was not in this palatial building that the great case was tried, but as is usually the way in a dilapidated, stuffy, little police-court, with dingy walls, bad ventilation, and greasy seats.

Long before the commencement of the trial, large crowds had gathered round the doors, not one tenth of whom could have found seats in the miserable building, that would scarcely hold two hundred people. The boys had secured passes for their friends to the gallery.

The bench was overcrowded with gentlemen who could tag J.P. on to their names. This is usual when an exciting case, particularly a breach of promise case, is on. At ordinary times great difficulty is experienced in getting anyone to attend.

When the Court was duly opened the Inspector read out the charge against Reginald Morris and Allen Winter, for inflicting grievous bodily harm and endangering the life of Villiers Wyckliffe.

"How do you plead—Guilty or Not Guilty?" asked the Clerk of the Court.

"Not Guilty," said Reg.

"Not Guilty," said Hal.

"I appear to prosecute, your worship," said Mr. Qurves, rising.

"And I for the defendants," said Dr. Haddon.

Wyck sat by his counsel's side. His head was wrapped in bandages and the expression of his face was forlorn and miserable. The boys were permitted to sit at their counsel's side and both appeared quite contented and serene.

The celebrated counsel, Mr. Qurves, noisily arranged his papers, rose and opened the case in the blustering manner for which he was famous.

"The case I have to present to your worship I think I may characterise as unprecedented in the annals of Australian history. It is monstrous that such a savage act of reprisal should have been conceived in the midst of the enlightened civilisation of our day. It is typical of a period of savagery and barbarism, and I venture to assert that even were we living under such barbaric conditions, when human life was held cheaply, an act so atrocious as this would not be allowed to go unpunished. That the prisoners—"

"I object to my clients being called prisoners," interposed Dr. Haddon.

"I bow to my learned friend. I will say defendants—for that they will be prisoners soon will be clearly demonstrated, so the objection hardly matters. That the defendants are hardened to crime and wickedness their callous manner makes apparent to all of us. To view with in-difference the grave charge of disfiguring a man in such a manner that his life is ruined stamps them at once as murderers in intent, if not in deed. I shall have little difficulty in shewing your worship that the crime was premeditated, and that the defendants were literally thirsting to avenge themselves in this bloodthirsty manner. I shall shew the Court that the defendant Morris set himself to avenge a wrong—or rather what his warped imagination considered a wrong—and, coward that he was, thinking that man to man would be an unequal match he sought an accomplice in the man by his side. Both of them hounded my client down, tracked him over the whole country—and what for, think you? For his blood—and yet both have the presumption to sit there with smiling faces and to ask you to believe they have done an heroic deed."

Mr. Qurves was practised in the art of rousing his audience to indignation, and he paused to let the full effect of his outburst sink into the hearts of his hearers.

"These are the outlines, your worship. I will now go into details. Villiers Wyckliffe, my client, is the only son of the late Seymour Wyckcliffe, the eminent banker, whose name is known throughout the civilised world. On the death of his father, Mr. Wyckliffe, being disinclined for a business life, converted the bank into a company and retired. Now, given a young man of prepossessing appearance, of good birth and standing, with ample means, does it not stand to reason that, in a city like London, a young man of this description would have more temptations thrown in his way than a more ordinary individual? Furthermore, he was always a great favourite with the gentler sex, and perhaps that fact alone was sufficient to rouse the ire of jealous individuals, a fair specimen of whom we have before us in the defendant Morris. Now, my client was introduced to a young lady at a ball, at the lady's own request, and they sat out one dance together. The lady proving to be very interested in him, and shewing a tendency to monopolise his attention, time passed, so that instead of one dance being missed, two were. The lady in question had merely remarked that as she was engaged to her betrothed for the next dance, it did not matter missing it. Also, in the course of the conversation, she mentioned, in a manner that could not be misconstrued, that she would be walking on the following day in the Park. Naturally, my client announced his intention of being there too. They met, and for several days continued to meet, just previous to the day the plaintiff had decided to start on his trip to Australia. On his arrival here telegrams informed him that he was being pursued. My client was surprised, but subsequently obtained the information that the girl had fallen in love with him and broken off with her betrothed, the defendant Morris. Now, I ask the Court if it is surprising that a girl should do that? One has only to compare the two men—even though you now see my client at a disadvantage—to perceive how natural, how much a matter of common sense and how inevitable it was that she should do so. Now, this commonplace matter was the cause of the assault."

We need not follow the learned counsel as he detailed the history of the meeting with Winter, the pursuit from one colony to another, the theft of the notched stick, and the ultimate capture of Wyck. With brutal directness and sarcasm he laid bare a diabolical plot until the audience was roused almost to a pitch of frenzy: but when he closed as follows the frenzy became almost uncontrollable.

"When these ruffians seized and drugged my client and gave play to their barbarous instincts by maiming him for life, one is tempted to ask why they did not further indulge their brutal propensities by roasting the flesh they cut away. I am sorry to say that both these men are Australians, and I ask again, can such things be tolerated in the country of sunshine and gladness, of freedom and justice? In another country we know Judge Lynch would preside at their trial. And we here shall shew these two that such an atrocity will not be permitted here solely because a girl has shewn one man that she can like him better than another, with whom she has become entangled. I will now call Mr. Wyckliffe."

As Mr. Qurves sat down he was gratified to find his blustering eloquence had had the result desired. Applause broke out in all corners of the Court; in vain the criers shouted for order, but their voices were drowned. "Let's lynch 'em," shouted some ardent spirits at the back. The row only subsided when the magistrate gave orders for the Court to be cleared. The boys looked quietly at each other, and held a whispered consultation with their counsel, but they remained as calm and collected as before, and the girls followed their example of quiet confidence.

Wyck entered the box with an air of bravado, and gave full particulars in support of his counsel's opening, in answer to the questions put to him. When Mr. Qurves had finished, Dr. Haddon rose in a quiet way, glanced slowly round the Court, and, turning to Wyck, asked:

"You know, of course, you are on your oath?"

"Certainly."

"You were a member of the Detlij Club before you left London?"

Wyck started in surprise, but answered, "I was."

"One of the objects of the Club was to enable jilted men to avenge themselves, I believe?"

"I believe so."

"They give a gold badge every year to the member who can boast of having destroyed the happiness of the most ladies?"

"Yes."

"You were awarded that badge last year?""I was."

"This is your stick, I believe?"

"It was, before it was stolen."

"Did you cut those notches in it?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"I don't know."

"Will you swear that you did not produce this stick at the Detlij Club and assert that each notch represented a broken heart?"

"I did not."

"Then what did you get the badge for?"

"I don't know." This in a sulky tone.

"Had you a friend of the name of Thomas Thomas?"

"Yes."

"You are aware he confessed everything to Morris?"

"No!" excitedly.

"Well then, I can tell you he did."

"It's a lie."

"Your crest was a broken heart, I believe?"

"It was."

"Why did you choose that?"

"To please myself.""You know, of course, that you are branded with your own device?"

"Yes."

"Now, with reference to this stick; do you still swear that you never produced it at the Detlij Club?"

"I do."

"Then what would you say if I brought forward a member of the Club to prove it?"

"That he's a liar."

"I have nothing more to ask, your worship," said Dr. Haddon, resuming his seat.

Dick Burton and several minor witnesses were called to complete the case for the prosecution, and the Court adjourned for luncheon.