“I don’t think positive accuracy about your age is a matter of great importance to the court,” murmured Melville, suavely. “Will you object if I ask you what you were doing at that time?”

“I was walking home,” answered Eve.

“I see. There is no public transport at that time of night and you couldn’t get a taxi. Is that it?”

“The witness will give us all the relevant information,” interrupted the magistrate severely.

“I am sorry, Your Worship. I am anxious only to make this ordeal as bearable as possible for the witness. Why did you walk home, Miss Franklin?”

“Because I couldn’t get a taxi.”

“Why did you walk across the Common?”

“I often do. Some friends of mine live on the other side of the Common, you see.”

“Had you been with these friends that night?”

“Yes.”

“What time was it when you left?”

“About one o’clock.”

“Can you be more precise?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” answered Eve, apologetically.

“Perhaps it is immaterial,” conceded Melville. “Did you walk along the sidewalk or along the road?”

“I cut across the Common, on a path.”

“Did you see anything coming along the road?”

“I saw a big car,” answered Eve. “I don’t know what make it was; there wasn’t very much light. I know it was a light colour, though—white, I should say. Its headlights were on.”

She moistened her lips.

She’s lying, Roger thought, desperately, but they’ll believe her.

“Go on, please,” murmured Melville.

“Just as it turned a bend in the road, a man ran out from the bushes,” asserted the girl. She looked as if the moment of horror still affected her, the lying bitch! “He didn’t seem to look where he was going, just ran across the road. The car swerved, and I quite thought it would crash. I remember standing still and staring. I couldn’t even cry out.”