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Chapter 7: Development Strategies
Chapter 7 – Development Strategies: Chapter 7 considers various development strategies for the new
system, and plans for the transition to the systems design phase.
Questions
1. Describe the concept of software as a service rather than a product. Is this an important trend? Why
or why not?
This certainly is an important trend! Students might refer to the Software and Information Industry
Association (SIIA) statement that the concept of software as a service is redefining the way that
companies develop and deploy their information systems. SIIA also stated that many observers
expect traditional packaged applications to be replaced by Web-based services that remove the
responsibility for installation, maintenance, and upgrades from a company’s in-house staff.
2. Explain the difference between horizontal and vertical application software. Suggest two examples
of each type.
A software package that can be used by many different types of organizations is called a horizontal
application. An accounting package or a payroll program is a good example of a horizontal
application because it can be utilized by many different businesses.
In contrast, a software package developed to handle information requirements for a specific type of
business is called a vertical application. Example might include software specifically designed for
auto dealerships, medical practices, and rental management firms.
3. What are three typical reasons why companies develop their own information systems?
The most common reason for a company to choose to develop its own information system is that
the company has unique requirements that no software package can satisfy. Other typical reasons
for in-house development include the following: a software package could cause major changes to
current operations, procedures, or data processing; the new software must work with the company's
existing information systems; the software must be compatible with the company's existing
hardware and systems software; in-house IT resources provide a competitive edge and an in-house
IT staff has a better understanding of the organization’s information needs.
4. What are user applications? Suggest three examples that could boost user productivity.
Business requirements sometimes can be fulfilled by a user application, rather than a formal
information system or commercial package. A user application utilizes standard business software,
such as Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, or tablet/cell phone apps, which have been configured
enhance user productivity. For example, to help a sales rep respond rapidly to customer price
requests, an IT support person can set up a form letter with links to a spreadsheet that calculates
incentives and discounts.

5. What are main steps in the software acquisition process?
The process of acquiring software involves a series of steps: evaluate the system requirements,
consider network and Web-related issues, identify potential software vendors or outsourcing
options, evaluate the alternatives, perform cost-benefit analysis, prepare a recommendation, and
implement the solution. During software acquisition, a company can use a request for proposal (RFP)
or a request for quotation (RFQ). An RFP invites vendors to respond to a list of system requirements
and features; an RFQ seeks bids for a specific product or service.
6. What is an RFP, and how does it differ from an RFQ?
A request for proposal (RFP) is a written list of the information system requirements that you give to
prospective software vendors before you decide on a specific package. RFPs help the vendors
determine whether they have a product that is a possible software solution. A request for quotation
(RFQ) solicits price and related information from vendors for the particular hardware and/or
software products you specify in the proposal. The RFP tends to be open-ended in terms of the
possible solutions sought by the organization, while the RFQ usually identifies a specific solution.
7. What is the purpose of a benchmark test? Suggest at least two examples of benchmarks.
A benchmark test measures the time a software package takes to process a set number of
transactions to ensure that the software package will be able to handle the required processing load.
Benchmarks might measure input, output, or throughput – or all three.
8. What is an evaluation model? How would you create a weighted evaluation model?
When you evaluate several responses to an RFP, you might find it helpful to use an evaluation model.
An evaluation model is a technique that uses a common yardstick to measure and compare vendor
ratings. To create a weighted model, you assign each element receives a rating based on its relative
importance.
9. What decisions might management reach at the end of the systems analysis phase, and what would
be the next step in each case?
At the end of the systems analysis phase, management might decide to develop an in-house system
(the next step is systems design), modify the current information system (the next step is systems
design), purchase and/or customize a software package (the next step might be systems
implementation, systems design, or planning for testing and documentation of modifications made
by the vendor), perform additional work on the systems analysis phase (the next step is to do further
systems analysis work), or terminate further work on the information system (the next step is to
begin work on another information systems alternative).
10. Explain the relationship between logical and physical design.
You develop the logical design of an information system during the systems analysis phase of the
SDLC. The logical design defines the functions and features of the system and the relationships
among its components. The logical design includes the output that must be produced by the system,

the input needed by the system, and the processes that must be performed by the system without
regard to how tasks will be accomplished physically. Logical design defines what must take place,
not how it is to be accomplished. In contrast, the physical design of an information system is a plan
for the actual implementation of the system. You develop the physical design during the systems
design phase of the SDLC. The physical design is built on the system’s logical design and describes a
specific implementation, much like a working blueprint describes the actual construction of a
building.
Discussion Topics
1. As more companies outsource systems development, will there be less need for in-house systems
analysts? Why or why not?
Answers will vary. Outsourcing might result in less need for in-house developers, but even more need
for analysts who can understand business requirements, plan, acquire, and configure outsourced
applications. Also, many firms are reluctant to outsource mission-critical IT systems or systems that
might involve sensitive data. Because of these considerations, it is unlikely that outsourcing will
result in a decline in systems analyst employment.
2. How has the proliferation of mobile devices affected IT professionals?
In the constantly changing world of IT, no area is more dynamic than Internet technology. Three
examples of evolving trends are Web 2.0, cloud computing, and mobile devices. Systems analysts
should be aware of these trends and consider them as they plan large-scale systems.
Mobile devices have become commonplace. Smartphones and tablets are now found in personal use
and across the enterprise in most organizations. Developing apps for mobile devices requires new
platforms, such as IBM’s Bluemix shown in Figure 7-5.
Mobile devices introduce a slew of new challenges for IT professionals. These include managing the
BYOD movement, security concerns, and overall lack of control of employee computing capabilities.
But mobile devices also offer several improvements in the IT professional’s life, such as the ability to
call upon computing resources as needed.
3. Suppose you tried to explain the concept of throwaway prototyping to a manager, and she
responded by asking, “So, is throwaway prototyping a waste of time and money?” How would you
reply?
Students should understand that not every prototype evolves into a finished system. Actually, most
prototypes are used to verify user requirements, after which the prototype is discarded and
implementation continues. Although this method is called design prototyping, or throwaway
prototyping, point out that the objectives are important and can save time and money during
systems development. Students should suggest that regardless of the terminology, the end product
of throwaway prototyping is a user-approved design model that documents and benchmarks the
features of the finished system.

4. Select a specific type of vertical application software to investigate. Visit local computer stores and
use the Internet to determine what software packages are available. Describe the common features
of those packages and the features that distinguish one product from another.
Vertical application software includes packages designed for specific business operations such as
medical offices, colleges, banks, hospitals, insurance companies, construction companies, real estate
firms, airlines, and hotel chains. Have students identify two or three examples and develop a
checklist that shows the common features and unique features (if any) that each package offers.
5. Select a specific type of horizontal application software to investigate. Visit local computer stores
and use the Internet to determine what software packages are available. Describe the common
features of those packages and the features that distinguish one product from another.
Typical horizontal application software for microcomputers includes payroll packages, contact
management systems, personal information management packages, and inventory management
software. Generic point-of-sale (POS) software also is considered a horizontal application. If students
identify two or three examples, have them develop a checklist that shows the common features and
unique features (if any) that each package offers.
Projects
1. The text mentions several firms and organizations that offer IT benchmarking. Locate another
benchmarking firm on the Internet, and write a description of the services it offers.
Students should be able to find many examples of firms that offer benchmark testing. This would be
a good assignment to practice some of the Internet search skills that are described in Part D of the
Systems Analyst’s Toolkit.
2. Investigate the ROI of cloud-based software development environments.
There is a trend towards the increased use of completely online, cloud-based development
environments.
Some of the advantages of a cloud-based development platform include an OS-neutral environment,
automatic maintenance and updates of the platform’s capabilities for all team members, and
ubiquitous access irrespective of device via a web browser interface.
Some of the disadvantages of a cloud-based development platform include potential latency issues
with the user interface if network connectivity is poor, lack of integration with existing tools, and
security and/or privacy concerns with data stored in the cloud.
3. Turn to Part C of the Systems Analyst’s Toolkit and review the concept of net present value (NPV).
Determine the NPV for the following: An information system will cost $95,000 to implement over a
one-year period and will produce no savings during that year. When the system goes online, the

company will save $30,000 during the first year of operation. For the next four years, the savings
will be $20,000 per year. Assuming a 12 percent discount rate, what is the NPV of the system?
An NPV analysis follows:
Project Assignment 2: Net Present Value Analysis
Information System Benefits and Costs:
Year 0 Year 1 Year 2 Year 3 Year 4 Year 5 Total
Benefits - 30,000 20,000 20,000 20,000 20,000
Factor (12%) 1.000 0.893 0.797 0.712 0.636 0.567
PV of
Benefits - 26,790 15,940 14,240 12,720 11,340 81,030
Costs 95,000
Factor (12%) 1.000 0.893 0.797 0.712 0.636 0.567
PV of Costs 95,000 - - - - - 95,000
Net Present
Value: (13,970)
Notice that the NPV is a negative 13,970. In this example, what looked like an attractive project
turned out not to be economically feasible. Why is this so? If no adjustment factor were used, the
total benefits would exceed the total costs by $15,000. The primary reason for the negative outcome
is the time value of money. Students should recognize that the $95,000 in costs would have to be
spent up front, and paid for with today’s dollars. The benefits, on the other hand, would not be
realized immediately and were worth less in terms of today’s dollars. This is a good example of the
importance of NPV analysis.

4. Visit the IT department at your school or at a local company and determine whether the information
systems were developed in-house or purchased as software packages. If packages were acquired,
determine what customizing was done, if any. Write a brief memo describing the results of your
visit.
Answers will vary. Encourage students to find out why the decisions were made, if possible, and
share the results with the class.
5. To create user applications as described in this chapter, systems analysts often use macros.
Microsoft defines a macro as “a series of commands and instructions that you group together as a
single command to accomplish a task automatically.” Learn more about macros by using the Help
feature in Microsoft Word, and identify three tasks that might be performed by macros.
Answers will vary. Many students are not aware of the power and potential of macros. Explain that
recording a macro is like using a tape recorder to capture a number of keystrokes and mouse clicks,
and then replaying the entire series with a single command, whenever desired. Point out that a
macro can be used instead of a command that requires digging two or three levels deep into the
menu structure.
In the Help section, Microsoft includes the following examples of typical uses for macros:
• To speed up routine editing and formatting
• To combine multiple commands; for example, inserting a table with a specific size and borders,
and with a specific number of rows and columns
• To make an option in a dialog box more accessible
• To automate a complex series of tasks

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Title: In the Dead of Night: A Novel. Volume 2 (of 3)
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Release date: September 21, 2018 [eBook #57946]
Most recently updated: May 18, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Charles Bowen
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE DEAD OF
NIGHT: A NOVEL. VOLUME 2 (OF 3) ***

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
A Novel.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1874.
(All rights reserved.)

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
CHAPTER I. THE EVE OF THE TRIAL
CHAPTER II. THE TRIAL
CHAPTER III. A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY
CHAPTER IV. DR. DRAYTON’S SUSPICIONS
CHAPTER V. HIDE AND SEEK
CHAPTER VI. FLOWN
CHAPTER VII. GENERAL ST. GEORGE
CHAPTER VIII. CUPID AT PINCOTE
CHAPTER IX. AT THE VILLA PAMPHILI
CHAPTER X. BACK AGAIN AT PARK NEWTON
CHAPTER XI. MRS. MCDERMOTT WANTS HER MONEY
CHAPTER XII. FOOTSTEPS IN THE ROOM
CHAPTER XIII. THE SQUIRE’S TRIBULATION

CHAPTER I.
THE EVE OF THE TRIAL.
Within a week of Tom Bristow’s first visit to Pincote, and his
introduction to the Copes, father and son, Mr. Cope, junior, found
himself, much to his disgust, fairly on his way to New York. He would
gladly have rebelled against the parental dictum in this matter, if he
had dared to do so; but he knew of old how worse than useless it
would be for him to offer the slightest opposition to his father’s
wishes.
“You will go and say goodbye to Miss Culpepper as a matter of
course,” said Mr. Cope to him. “But don’t grow too sentimental over
the parting. Do it in an easy, smiling way, as if you were merely
going out of town for a few days. Don’t make any promises—don’t
talk about the future—and, above all, don’t say a word about
marriage. Of course, you will have to write to her occasionally while
you are away. Just a few lines, you know, to say how you are, and
all that. No mawkish silly love-nonsense, but a sensible, manly
letter; and be wisely reticent as to the date of your return. Very
sorry, but you don’t know how much longer your business may
detain you—you know the sort of thing I mean.”
When the idea had first entered Mr. Cope’s mind that it would be
an excellent thing if he could only succeed in getting his son
engaged to Squire Culpepper’s only child, it had not been without an
ulterior eye to the fortune which that young lady would one day call
her own that he had been induced to press forward the scheme to a
successful issue. By marrying Miss Culpepper, his son would be
enabled to take up a position in county society such as he could

never hope to attain either by his own merits, which were of the
most moderate kind, or from his father’s money bags alone. But
dearly as Mr. Cope loved position, he loved money still better; and it
was no part of his programme that his son should marry a pauper,
even though that pauper could trace back her pedigree to the
Conqueror. And yet, if the squire went on speculating as madly as he
was evidently doing now, it seemed only too probable that
pauperism, or something very much like it, would be the result, as
far as Miss Culpepper was concerned. Instead of having a fortune of
at least twenty thousand pounds, as she ought to have, would she
come in for as many pence when the old man died? Mr. Cope
groaned in spirit as he asked himself the question, and he became
more determined than ever to carry out his policy of waiting and
watching, before allowing the engagement of the young people to
reach a point that would render a subsequent rupture impossible
without open scandal—and scandal was a bugbear of which the
banker stood in extreme dread.
Fortunately, perhaps, for Mr. Cope’s view, the feelings of neither of
the people chiefly concerned were very deeply interested. Edward
had obeyed his father in this as in everything else. He had known
Jane from a child, and he liked her because she was clever and
good-tempered. But she by no means realized his ideal of feminine
beauty. She was too slender, too slightly formed to meet with his
approval. “There’s not enough of her,” was the way he put it to
himself. Miss Moggs, the confectioner’s daughter, with her ample
proportions and beaming smile, was far more to his taste. Equally to
his taste was the pastry dispensed by Miss Moggs’s plump fingers, of
which he used to devour enormous quantities, seated on a three-
legged stool in front of the counter, while chatting in a free and easy
way about his horses and dogs, and the number of pigeons he had
slaughtered of late. And then it was so much easier to talk to Miss
Moggs than it was to talk to Jane. Miss Moggs looked up to him as
to a young magnifico, and listened to his oracular utterances with
becoming reverence and attention; but Jane, somehow, didn’t seem

to appreciate him as he wished to be appreciated, and he never felt,
quite sure that she was not laughing at him in her sleeve.
“So you are going to leave us by the eight o’clock train to-morrow,
are you?” asked Jane, when he went to Pincote to say a few last
words of farewell. He had sat down by her side on the sofa, and had
taken her unresisting hand in his; a somewhat thin, cold little hand,
that returned his pressure very faintly. How different, as he could not
help saying to himself, from the warm, plump fingers of Matilda
Moggs.
“Yes, I’m going by the morning train. Perhaps I shall never come
back. Perhaps I shall be drowned,” he said, somewhat dolorously.
“Not you, Edward, dear. You will live to plague us all for many a
year to come. I wish I could do your business, and go instead of
you.”
“You don’t mean to say that you would like to cross the Atlantic,
Jane?”
“I mean to say that there are few things in the world would please
me better. What a fresh and glorious experience it must be to one
who has never been far from home!”
“But think of the sea-sickness.”
“Think of being out of sight of commonplace land for days and
days together. Think how delightful it must be to be rocked on the
great Atlantic rollers, and what a new and pleasant sensation it must
be to know that there is only a plank between yourself and the
fishes, and yet not to feel the least bit afraid.”
Edward shuddered. “When you wake up in the middle of the night,
and hear the wind blowing hard, you will think of me, won’t you?”
he said.
“Of course I shall. And I shall wish I were by your side to enjoy it.
To be out in a gale on the Atlantic—that must indeed be glorious!”
Edward’s fat cheeks became a shade paler, “Don’t talk in that way,
Jane,” he said. “One never can tell what may happen. I shall write to

you, of course, and all that; and you won’t forget me while I’m
away, will you?”
“No, I shall not forget you, Edward; of that you may be quite
sure.”
Then he drew her towards him, and kissed her; and then, after a
few more words, he went away.
It was just the sort of parting that his father would have approved
of, he said to himself, as he drove down the avenue. No tears, no
sentimental nonsense, no fuss of any kind. Privately he felt
somewhat aggrieved that she had not taken the parting more to
heart. “There wasn’t even a single tear in her eye,” he said to
himself. “She doesn’t half know how to appreciate a fellow.”
He would perhaps have altered his opinion in some measure could
he have seen Jane half an hour later. She had locked herself in her
bedroom, and was crying bitterly. Why she was crying thus she
would have found it difficult to explain: in fact, she hardly knew
herself. It is possible that her tears were not altogether tears of
bitterness—that some other feeling than sorrow for her temporary
separation from Edward Cope was stirring the fountains of her heart.
She kept on upbraiding herself for her coldness and want of feeling,
and trying to persuade herself that she was deeply sorry, rather than
secretly—very secretly—glad to be relieved of the tedium of his
presence for several weeks to come. She knew how wrong it was of
her—it was almost wicked, she thought—to feel thus: but,
underlying all her tears, was a gleam of precious sunshine, of which
she was dimly conscious, although she would not acknowledge its
presence even to herself.
After a time her tears ceased to flow. She got up and bathed her
eyes. While thus occupied her maid knocked at the door.
Mr. Bristow was downstairs. He had brought some photographs for
Miss Culpepper to look at.
“Tell Mr. Bristow how sorry I am that I cannot see him to-day,”
said Jane. “But my head aches so badly that I cannot possibly go
down.” Then when the girl was gone, “I won’t see him to-day,” she

added to herself. “When Edward and I are married he will come and
see us sometimes, perhaps. Edward will always be glad to see him.”
Hearing the front-door clash, she ran to the window and pulled
aside a corner of the blind. In a minute or two she saw Tom walking
leisurely down the avenue. Presently he paused, and turned, and
began to scan the house as if he knew that Jane were watching him.
It was quite impossible that he should see her, but for all that she
shrank back, with a blush and a shy little smile. But she did not
loose her hold of the blind; and presently she peeped again, and
never moved her eyes till Tom was lost to view.
Then she went downstairs into the drawing-room, and found there
the photographs which Tom had left for her inspection. There, too,
lying close by, was a glove which he had dropped and had omitted
to pick up again. “I will give it to him next time he comes,” she said
softly to herself. Strange to relate, her next action was to press the
glove to her lips, after which she hid it away in the bosom of her
dress. But young ladies’ memories are proverbially treacherous, and
Jane’s was no exception to the rule. Tom Bristow’s glove never found
its way back into his possession.
Jane Culpepper had drifted into her engagement with Edward
Cope almost without knowing how such a state of affairs had been
brought about. When her father first mentioned the matter to her,
and told her that Edward was fond of her, she laughed at the idea of
Edward being fond of anything but his horses and his gun. When,
later on, the young banker, in obedience to parental instructions,
blundered through a sort of declaration of love, she laughed again,
but neither repulsed nor encouraged him. She was quite heart-whole
and fancy-free; but certainly Mr. Cope, junior, bore only the faintest
resemblance to the vague hero of her girlish dreams—who would
come riding one day out of the enchanted Kingdom of Love, and,
falling on his knees before her, implore her to share his heart and
fortune for evermore. To speak the truth, there was no romance of
any kind about Edward. He was hopelessly prosaic: he was
irredeemably commonplace; but they had known each other from
childhood, and she had a kindly regard for him, arising from that

very fact. So, pending the arrival of Prince Charming, she did not
altogether repulse him, but went on treating his suit as a piece of
pleasant absurdity which could never work itself out to a serious
issue either for herself or him. She took the alarm a little when some
whispers reached her that she would be asked, before long, to fix a
day for the wedding; but, latterly, even those whispers had died
away. Nobody seemed in a hurry to press the affair forward to its
legitimate conclusion: even Edward himself showed no impatience
on the point. So long as he could come and go at Pincote as he
liked, and hover about Jane, and squeeze her hand occasionally, and
drive her out once or twice a week behind his high-stepping bays, he
seemed to want nothing more. They were just the same to each
other as they had been when they were children, Jane said to
herself—and why should they not remain so?
But, of late, a slight change had come o’er the spirit of Miss
Culpepper’s dream. New hopes, and thoughts, and fears, to which
she had hitherto been a stranger, began to nestle and flutter round
her heart, like love-birds building in spring. The thought of becoming
the wife of Edward Cope was fast becoming—nay, had already
become, utterly distasteful to her. She began to realize the fact that
it is impossible to keep on playing with fire without getting burnt.
She had allowed herself to drift into an engagement with a man for
whom she really cared nothing, thinking, probably, at the time that
for her no Prince Charming would ever come riding out of the
woods; and that, if it would please her father, she might as well
marry Edward Cope as any one else. But behold! all at once Prince
Charming had come, and although, as yet, he had not gone down on
his knees and offered his hand and heart for evermore, she felt that
she could never love but him alone. She felt, too, with a sort of
dumb despair, that she had already given herself away beyond recall
—or, at least, had led the world to think that she had so given
herself away; and that she could not, with any show of maidenly
honour, reclaim a gift which she had let slip from her so lightly and
easily that she hardly knew herself when it was gone.

The eve of Lionel Dering’s trial came at last. The Duxley assizes
had opened on the previous Thursday. All the minor cases had been
got through by Saturday night, and one of the two judges had
already gone forward to the next town. The Park Newton murder
case had been left purposely till Monday, and by those who were
supposed to know best, it was considered not unlikely that trial,
verdict, and sentence would all be got through in the course of one
sitting.
The celebrated Mr. Tressil, who had been specially engaged for the
defence, found it impossible to get down to Duxley before the five
o’clock train on Sunday afternoon. He was met on the platform by
Mr. Hoskyns and Mr. Bristow. His junior in the case, Mr. Little, was to
meet him by appointment at his rooms later on. Tom was introduced
to Mr. Tressil by Hoskyns as a particular friend of Mr. Dering’s, and
the three gentlemen at once drove to the prison. Mr. Tressil had
gone carefully through his brief as he came down in the train. The
information conveyed therein was so ample and complete that it was
more as a matter of form than to serve any real purpose that he
went to see his client. The interview was a very brief one. The few
questions Mr. Tressil had to ask were readily answered, but it was
quite evident that there was no fresh point to be elicited. Then Mr.
Tressil went away, accompanied by Mr. Hoskyns; and Tom was left
alone with his friend.
Edith had taken leave of her husband an hour before. They would
see each other no more till after the trial was over. What the result
of the trial might possibly be they neither of them dared so much as
whisper. Each of them put on a make-believe gaiety and
cheerfulness of manner, hoping thereby to deceive the other—as if
such a thing were possible.
“In two days’ time you will be back again at Park Newton,” Edith
had said, “and will find yourself saddled with a wife, whom, while a
prisoner, you were compelled to marry against your will. Surely, in so
extreme a case, the Divorce Court would take pity on you, and grant
you some relief.”

“An excellent suggestion,” said Lionel, with a laugh. “I must have
some talk with Hoskyns about it. Meanwhile, suppose you get your
trunks packed, and prepare for an early start on our wedding tour.
Oh! to get outside these four walls again—to have ‘the sky above my
head, and the grass beneath my feet’—what happiness—what
ecstasy—that will be! A week from this time, Edith, we shall be at
Chamounix. Think of that, sweet one! In place of this grim cell—the
Alps and Freedom! Ah me! what a world of meaning there is in those
few words!”
The clock struck four. It was time to go. Only by a supreme effort
could Edith keep back her tears—but she did keep them back.
“Goodbye—my husband!” she whispered, as she kissed him on the
lips—the eyes—the forehead. “May He who knows all our sorrows,
and can lighten all our burdens, grant you strength for the morrow!”
Lionel’s lips formed the words, “Goodbye,” but no sound came
from them. One last clasp of the hand—one last yearning, heartfelt
look straight into each other’s eyes, and then Edith was gone. Lionel
fell back on his seat with a groan as the door shut behind her; and
there, with bowed head and clasped fingers, he sat without moving
till the coming of Mr. Tressil and the others warned him that he was
no longer alone.
As soon as Mr. Tressil and Hoskyns were gone, Lionel lighted up
his biggest meerschaum, and Tom was persuaded, for once, into
trying a very mild cigarette. Neither of them spoke much—in fact,
neither of them seemed to have much to say. They were
Englishmen, and to-day they did not belie the taciturnity of their
race. They made a few disjointed remarks about the weather, and
they both agreed that there was every prospect of an excellent
harvest. Lionel inquired after the Culpeppers, and was sorry to hear
that the squire was confined to his room with gout. After that, there
seemed to be nothing more to say, but they understood each other
so well that there was no need of words to interpret between them.
Simply to have Tom sitting there, was to Lionel a comfort and a
consolation such as nothing else, except the presence of his wife,
could have afforded him; and for Tom to have gone to his lodgings

without spending that last hour with his friend, would have been a
sheer impossibility.
“I shall see you to-morrow?” asked Lionel, as Tom rose to go.
“Certainly you will.”
“Good-night, old fellow.”
“Good-night, Dering. Take my advice, and don’t sit up reading or
anything to-night, but get off to bed as early as you can.”
Lionel nodded and smiled, and so they parted.
Tom had called at Alder Cottage earlier in the day, and had seen
Edith and Mrs. Garside, and had given them their final instructions.
He had one other person still to see—Mr. Sprague, the chemist, and
him he went in search of as soon as he had bidden Lionel good-
night.
Mr. Sprague himself came in answer to Tom’s ring at the bell, and
ushered his visitor into a stuffy little parlour behind the shop, where
he had been lounging on the sofa in his shirt-sleeves, reading
Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy.” And a very melancholy, careworn-
looking man was this chemist whom Tom had come to see. He
looked as if the perpetual battle for daily bread, which had been
going on with him from year’s end to year’s end ever since he was
old enough to handle a pestle, was at last beginning to daunt him.
He had a cowed, wobegone expression as he passed his fingers
wearily through his thin grizzled locks: although he did his best to
put on an air of cheerfulness at the tardy prospect of a customer.
Tom and the chemist were old acquaintances. Sprague’s shop was
one of the institutions of Duxley, and had been known to Tom from
his early boyhood. Once or twice during his present visit to the town
he had called there and made a few purchases, and chatted over old
times, and old friends long dead and gone, with the melancholy
chemist.
“You still stick to the old place, Mr. Sprague,” said Tom, as he sat
down on the ancient sofa.

“Yes, Mr. Bristow—yes. I don’t know that I could do better. My
father kept the shop before me, and everybody in Duxley knows it.”
“I suppose you will be retiring on your fortune before long?”
The chemist laughed a hollow laugh. “With thirteen youthful and
voracious mouths to feed, it looks like making a fortune, don’t it,
sir?”
“A baker’s dozen of youngsters! Fie, Mr. Sprague, fie!”
“Talking about the baker, sir, I give you my word of honour that he
and the butcher take nearly every farthing of profit I get out of my
business. It has come to this: that I can no longer make ends meet,
as I used to do years ago. For the first time in my life, sir, I am
behindhand with my rent, and goodness only knows when and how I
shall get it made up.” Mr. Sprague’s voice was very pitiable as he
finished.
“But, surely, some of your children are old enough to help
themselves,” said Tom.
“The eldest are all girls,” answered poor Mr. Sprague, “and they
have to stay at home and help their mother with the little ones. My
eldest boy, Alex, is only nine years old.”
“Just the age to get him off your hands—just the age to get him
into the Downham Foundation School.”
“Oh, sir, what a relief that would be, both to his poor mother and
me! The same thought has struck me, sir, many a time, but I have
no influence—none whatever.”
“But it is possible that I may have a little,” said Tom, kindly.
“Oh, Mr. Bristow!” gasped the chemist, and then could say no
more.
“Supposing—merely supposing, you know,” said Tom, “that I were
to get your eldest boy into the Downham Foundation School, and
were, in addition, to put a hundred-pound note into your hands with
which to pay off your arrears of rent, you would be willing to do a
trifling service for me in return?”

“I should be the most ungrateful wretch in the world were I to
refuse to do so,” replied the chemist, earnestly.
“Then listen,” said Tom. “You are summoned to serve as one of
the jury in the great murder case to-morrow.”
Mr. Sprague nodded.
“You will serve, as a matter of course,” continued Tom. “I shall be
in the court, and in such a position that you can see me without
difficulty. As soon as the clock strikes three, you will look at me, and
you will keep on looking at me every two or three minutes, waiting
for a signal from me. Perhaps it will not be requisite for me to give
the signal at all—in that case I shall not need your services; but
whether they are needed or no, your remuneration will in every
respect be the same.”
“And what is the signal, Mr. Bristow, for which I am to look out?”
“The scratching, with my little finger—thus—of the left-hand side
of my nose.”
“And what am I to do when I see the signal?”
“You are to pretend that you are taken suddenly ill, and you are to
keep up that pretence long enough to render it impossible for the
trial to be finished on Monday—long enough, in fact, to make its
postponement to Tuesday morning an inevitable necessity.”
“I understand, sir. You want the trial to extend into the second
day; instead of being finished, as it might be, on the first?”
“That is exactly what I want. Can you counterfeit a sudden attack
of illness, so as to give it an air of reality?”
“I ought to be able to do so, sir. I see plenty of the symptoms
every day of my life.”
“They will send for a doctor to examine you, you know.”
“I suppose so, sir. But my plan will be this: not merely to pretend
to be ill, but to be ill in reality. To swallow something, in fact—say a
pill concocted by myself—which will really make me very sick and ill
for two or three hours, without doing me any permanent injury.”

“Not a bad idea by any means. But you understand that you are to
take no action whatever in the matter until you see my signal.”
“I understand that clearly.”
After a little more conversation, Tom went, carrying with him in his
waistcoat pocket a tiny phial, filled with some dark-coloured fluid
which the chemist had mixed expressly for him.
On the point of leaving, Tom produced three or four rustling
pieces of paper. “Here are thirty pounds on account, Mr. Sprague,”
said he. “I think we understand one another, eh?”
The chemist’s fingers closed like a vice on the notes. His heart
gave a great sigh of relief. “I am your humble servant to command,
Mr. Bristow,” he returned. “You have saved my credit and my good
name, and you may depend upon me in every way.”
As Tom was walking soberly towards his lodging, he passed the
open door of the Royal Hotel. Under the portico stood a man
smoking a cigar. Their eyes met for an instant in the lamplight, but
they were strangers to each other, and Tom passed on his way. Next
moment he started, and turned to look again. He had heard a voice
say: “Mr. St. George, your dinner is served.”
He had come at last, then, this cousin, who had not been seen in
Duxley since the day of the inquest—on whose evidence to-morrow
so much would depend.
“Is that the man, I wonder,” said Tom to himself, “in whose breast
lies hidden the black secret of the murder? If not in his—then in
whose?”

CHAPTER II.
THE TRIAL
“How say you, prisoner at the bar: Guilty or Not Guilty?”
“Not Guilty.”
There was a moment’s pause. A slight murmur passed like a ripple
through the dense crowd. Each individual item, male and female,
tried to wriggle itself into a more comfortable position, knowing that
it was fixed in that particular spot for some hours to come. The crier
of the court called silence where silence was already, and next
moment Mr. Purcell, the counsel for the prosecution, rose to his feet.
He glanced up at the prisoner for one brief moment, bowed slightly
to the judge, hitched his gown well forward, fixed one foot firmly on
a spindle of the nearest chair, and turned over the first page of his
brief.
Mr. Purcell possessed in an eminent degree the faculty of clear and
lucid exposition. His manner was passionless, his style frigid. He
aimed at nothing more than giving a cold, unvarnished statement of
the facts. But then the way in which he marshalled his facts—going,
step by step, through the evidence as taken before the magistrates,
bringing out with fatal clearness point after point against the
prisoner, gradually wrapping him round, as it were, in an inextricable
network of evidence from which it seemed impossible for any human
agency to free him—was, to such of his hearers as could appreciate
his efforts, an intellectual treat of a very rare order indeed: Even
Lionel had to ask himself, in a sort of maze: “Am I guilty, or am I
not?” when Mr. Purcell came to the end of his exposition, and took

breath for a moment while the first witness for the prosecution was
being sworn by the clerk of the court.
That first witness was Kester St. George.
Mr. St. George looked very pale—his recent illness might account
for that—but he showed not the slightest trace of nervousness as he
stepped into the witness-box. It was noticed by several people that
he kept his eyes fixed straight before him, and never once turned
them on the prisoner in the dock.
The evidence elicited from Mr. St. George was—epitomized—to the
following effect:—Was own cousin to the prisoner at the bar, but had
not seen him since they were boys together till prisoner called on
him in London a few weeks before the murder. Met prisoner in the
street shortly afterwards. Introduced him to Mr. Osmond, the
murdered man, who happened to be in his (witness’s) company at
the time. Prisoner, on the spot, invited both witness and Osmond to
visit him at Park Newton. The invitation was accepted. Witness and
Osmond went down to Park Newton, and up to the night of the
murder everything passed off in the most amicable and friendly
spirit. On that evening they all three dined by invitation with Mr.
Culpepper, of Pincote. They got back to Park Newton about eleven
o’clock. Osmond then proposed to finish up the evening with a game
at billiards. Prisoner objected for a time, but ultimately yielded the
point, and they all went into the billiard-room. The game was to be a
hundred up, and everything went on satisfactorily till Osmond
accused prisoner of having played with the wrong ball. This prisoner
denied. An altercation followed. After some words on both sides,
Osmond threw part of a glass of seltzer-and-brandy into prisoner’s
face. Prisoner sprang at Osmond and seized him by the throat.
Osmond drew a small revolver and fired at prisoner, but fortunately
missed him. Witness then interposed, dragged Osmond from the
room, and put him into the hands of his (witness’s) valet, with
instructions not to leave him till he was safely in bed. Then went
back to prisoner, whom he found still in the billiard-room, but
depressed in spirits, and complaining of one of those violent head
aches that were constitutional with him. Witness himself being

subject to similar headaches, recommended to prisoner’s notice a
certain mixture from which he had himself derived much benefit.
Prisoner agreed to take a dose of the mixture. Witness went to his
own bedroom to obtain it, and then took it to the prisoner, whom he
found partially undressed, preparing for bed. Prisoner took the
mixture. Then he and witness bade each other good-night, and
separated. Next morning, at eight o’clock, witness’s valet brought a
telegram to his bedroom summoning him to London on important
business. He dressed immediately, and left Park Newton at once—an
hour and a half before the discovery of the murder.
Cross-examined by Mr. Tressil:
The only one of the three who was at all the worse for wine on
their return from Pincote was Mr. Osmond. Had several times seen
him in a similar condition. On such occasions he was very talkative,
and rather inclined to be quarrelsome. Osmond was in error in
saying that prisoner played with the wrong ball. Witness, in his
position as marker, was watching the game very carefully, and was
certain that no such mistake was made. Osmond was grossly
insulting; and prisoner, all through the quarrel, acted with the
greatest forbearance. It was not till after Osmond had thrown the
brandy-and-seltzer in his face that prisoner laid hands on him at all.
The instant after, Osmond drew his revolver and fired. The bullet
just missed prisoner’s head and lodged in the wall behind him. After
Osmond left the room no animosity or ill-feeling was evinced by
prisoner towards him. On the contrary, prisoner expressed his deep
regret that such a fracas should have taken place under his roof.
Had not the slightest fear that there would be any renewal of the
quarrel afterwards, or would not have left for London next morning.
Certainly thought that an ample apology was due from Osmond, and
never doubted that such an apology would be forthcoming when he
had slept off the effects of the wine. Was never more surprised or
shocked in his life than when he heard of the murder, and that his
cousin was accused of the crime. It seemed to him too horrible for
belief. Could not conceive of any possible motive that the prisoner
could have for committing such a crime.

“Would you not almost as soon expect to have been the author of
such a crime yourself?” asked Mr. Tressil.
Mr. St. George turned a shade paler than he was before, and for
the first time he seemed to hesitate a little before answering the
question. “Yes,” he said at last, “I should almost as soon expect such
a thing. In fact, I cannot, even now, believe that my cousin, Lionel
Dering, is the murderer of Percy Osmond.”
Mr. Tressil sat down, and Mr. Little rose to his feet.
“On the night of the quarrel prisoner complained to you of having
a very violent headache?”
“He did.”
“And you proffered to administer to him a dose of a certain
narcotic which you had found to be efficacious in such cases
yourself?”
“I did.”
“How many drops of the narcotic did you administer to the
prisoner?”
“Fifteen, in water.”
“You saw him drink it?”
“I did.”
“You yourself are troubled with violent headaches at times?”
“I am.”
“At such times you administer to yourself a dose of the same
narcotic that you administered to the prisoner?”
“I do.”
“And you derive great benefit from it?”
“Invariably.”
“How many drops of the narcotic do you take yourself on such
occasions?”
“Fifteen, in water.”
“Is that your invariable dose?”

“It is.”
“Speaking for yourself, what is the effect it has upon you on such
occasions?”
“It induces languor and drowsiness, and seems to deaden the
pain. Its chief object is to insure a good night’s rest—nothing more.”
“How many years have you been in the habit of taking this
narcotic?”
“At intervals, for a dozen years.”
“You have therefore become habituated to the use of it?”
“To a certain extent, yes.”
“But if you, after twelve years’ practice, are in the habit of taking
only fifteen drops, does it not strike you that that quantity was
somewhat of an overdose for a man who had never taken anything
of the kind before?”
“It did not strike me as being so at the time. The prisoner is a
strong and healthy man, and his headache was a very violent one.”
“But, in any case, the general effect would be to induce a sense of
extreme drowsiness, which, in a little while, would result in a dull,
heavy sleep—a sleep so heavy and so dull that the sense of violent
pain would be deadened, and even lost for the time being?”
“Those are precisely the effects which might be expected.”
“How soon, after a dose has been taken, does the feeling of
drowsiness come on?”
“In about a quarter of an hour.”
“Suppose now, that after you had taken a dose of the narcotic,
you wished, for some particular reason, to keep broad awake;
suppose that you had some important business to transact—say, if
you like, that you had a murder to commit—how would that be?”
“I should find it utterly impossible to keep awake. The feeling of
drowsiness induced is so intense that your whole and sole desire is
to sleep: you feel as if you wanted to sleep for a month without
waking.”

Mr. Little, having scored a point, sat down, and Mr. St. George left
the witness-box. As he was stepping down into the body of the court
his eyes met the eyes of Lionel Dering for the first time that day. It
was but for a moment, and then Kester’s head was turned
deliberately away. But in that moment Lionel saw, or fancied that he
saw, the self-same expression flash from his cousin’s eyes that he
had seen in them that night, now many months ago, when they
recognized each other across the crowd on Westminster Bridge—a
look of cold, deadly, unquenchable hate, that nothing but death
could cancel, with which, to-day, was mingled a look of scornful
triumph that seemed to say, “My turn has come at last.” For one
brief instant Lionel seemed to see his cousin’s soul stand unveiled
and naked before him.
As before, it was a look that chilled his heart and troubled him
strangely. Kester had given his evidence in a perfectly fair and
straightforward manner, without betraying the slightest animus
against his cousin: indeed, he had distinctly stated more than once
that he could not and would not believe that Lionel was guilty of the
terrible crime for which he was arraigned, and the little sympathetic
thrill which he threw into his soft musical voice at such times could
hardly pass unnoticed by any one. But how reconcile such tokens of
goodwill and cousinly affection with the fact that he had never once
spoken a word to Lionel since they parted in the latter’s bedroom on
the night of the murder? Even at the inquest, and during the few
days that elapsed after the murder before Lionel was committed for
trial, his cousin had never come near him, or made any effort
whatever to see him. Afterwards there had been vague news of his
serious illness in London; but, even then, he might surely have
written, or have dictated half a dozen lines, had it been only to say
that he was too ill to come in person. But during all those weary
days of waiting in prison there had come no word, no message, no
token to tell Lionel that there was any such person as Kester St.
George in existence.
And now, to-day, what did that look mean? To a man of Lionel’s
frank and unsuspicious disposition it seemed difficult, nay next to

impossible, to believe that he must count his cousin, not as a friend,
but as an enemy; and yet the conviction was beginning to dawn
slowly upon him that such was indeed the case. But with the
dawning of that conviction there was growing up in his mind a dim,
vague suspicion, shapeless as yet, but hideous in its shapelessness,
to which neither name nor speech had yet been given, but which
began to haunt him day and night like some weird nightmare which
it was impossible to shake off.
The next witness that was called was Martin Rooke.
Was in prisoner’s employ as under-footman at Park Newton. Had
been appointed specially to wait on Mr. Osmond, that gentleman
having brought no servant with him. One of his duties was to call Mr.
Osmond about nine o’clock every morning. Remembered the
morning of the ninth of May very well: in fact, should never forget it
as long as he lived. Went as usual about nine o’clock—it might be a
few minutes before or a few minutes after the hour—to call Mr.
Osmond. Found the door unlocked, as usual, and went in after
knocking once. Did not notice any signs of disturbance in the room.
Went up to the bed with the intention of calling Mr. Osmond. Saw at
once what had happened. Mr. Osmond was lying on his back across
the bed. After the first shock of the surprise was over, rushed
downstairs and summoned assistance. All the servants who were
about at once went upstairs with him into the room. Mr. Pearce, the
butler, sent off post-haste for the nearest doctor. Then the rest of
the servants, except witness, and Janvard, Mr. St. George’s valet,
went in a body to rouse Mr. Dering, who was sleeping in the room
next to that of Mr. Osmond. One of Mr. Osmond’s hands was open,
the other was shut as if it were clasping something. Janvard took
hold of the shut hand, and tried to open the fingers, when
something fell from them to the floor. Janvard picked up the fallen
article, when witness saw that it was a shirt-stud made of jet, set in
filigree gold. “This stud is Mr. Dering’s property,” said Janvard. “I saw
it in his shirt last night.” Then witness and Janvard looked about the
room and under the bed, to see whether they could find a weapon
of any kind, but could not. Then they left Mr. Osmond’s room

together, and went along the corridor to Mr. Dering’s room. The door
was wide open, and Pearce and the other servants were clustered
round it. Witness peeped over the shoulders of the others, and saw
prisoner standing in the middle of the room, looking like a man half
dazed. There were red stains on his shirt-front, and there was a red-
stained pocket-handkerchief lying at his feet. Janvard then showed
prisoner the stud, and asked him whether it was his property.
Prisoner said that it was, and asked him where he had found it.
Janvard answered that he had found it in the hand of the murdered
man. Prisoner sat down in the nearest chair, and witness thought he
was going to faint. Then Pearce ordered everybody away, and went
into the room and shut the door. Witness went back to Mr. Osmond’s
room, locked the door, and kept the key till the doctor came—with
whom came also the superintendent of police.
The cross-examination of this witness elicited nothing of any
importance in favour of the prisoner.
The next witness was Pierre Janvard.
Witness deposed that on the night of the eighth of May he was
sitting up for his master, Mr. St. George, who, after his return from
Pincote, where he had been dining, had joined prisoner and Mr.
Osmond in the billiard-room. About midnight the bell rang, and on
answering it he found Mr. Osmond seated on the bottom stair of the
flight that led to the bedrooms, and his master standing near him.
Mr. St. George motioned to witness to get Mr. Osmond upstairs, and
whispered to him that he was not to leave him till he had seen him
safely in bed. Mr. St. George then went back to the billiard-room,
and witness, after a little persuasion, managed to get Mr. Osmond as
far as his own room. Mr. Osmond was half drunk, and was evidently
much excited. He kept shaking his head, and talking to himself
under his breath, but witness could not make out what he said. Had
seen Mr. Osmond the worse for wine several times before. It was the
duty of Rooke, the previous witness, to attend to him at such times;
but Rooke was in bed, and he (witness) did not care to disturb him.
After a little while Mr. Osmond was induced to get into bed. Witness
lingered in the room for a few minutes till he seemed fast asleep,

then left him, and neither knew nor heard anything more about him
till Rooke rushed into the servants’ hall, about nine o’clock next
morning, with the news of the murder.
The rest of the evidence given by Janvard was little more than a
recapitulation of that already given by Rooke. The evidence of the
latter was confirmed with regard to the finding of the jet stud, and
its recognition by the prisoner as his property. The stud itself was
produced in court, and handed up to the jury for inspection.
The next witness was James Mackerith, M.D.
Dr. Mackerith began by stating that between nine and ten o’clock
on the morning of May ninth, a servant from Park Newton rode up to
his house, and told him he was wanted, without a moment’s delay,
to look to a gentleman who had been murdered during the night.
Witness got out his gig and started at once, and, meeting the
superintendent of police on the way, that gentleman joined him on
hearing his errand. Witness then went on to describe the finding and
appearance of the body. Mr. Osmond had been stabbed through the
heart with a knife or dagger. Death, which must have been almost
instantaneous, had taken place at least five or six hours before the
arrival of witness. There were no traces of any struggle. In all
probability Mr. Osmond had been murdered in his sleep, or at the
moment when he first opened his eyes, and before he had time to
raise any alarm.
This witness was severely cross-examined by Mr. Tressil as to the
possibility or otherwise of deceased having committed suicide, but
nothing could shake him in his positive conviction that, in the
present case, such a theory was utterly untenable. After the cross-
examination of Dr. Mackerith was brought to an end the court
adjourned for luncheon.
It was now two o’clock, and although there were three or four
minor witnesses still to be examined, the general impression seemed
to be that, if the jury were not long in making up their minds, the
whole unhappy business would be brought to an end by six o’clock
at the latest.

The prisoner, who, by the judge’s instructions, had quite early in
the day been accommodated with a chair, had listened with quiet
attention to the progress of the case, but had not otherwise seemed
to take more interest in it than any ordinary spectator might have
done. He had a thorough comprehension from the first that the trial
must go dead against him, but he never abated by one jot the quiet,
resolute calmness of his manner. He was the same to-day as he had
been on the first day of his imprisonment; only, to-day, he was the
focus of a thousand inquisitive eyes; but he seemed as utterly
unconscious of the fact as though he were sitting in the silence and
solitude of his cell.
Hour by hour, as the trial went on, Tom sent brief notes by a
messenger to Edith. In these notes all that he could say was that
such and such a witness was under examination, and that
everything was going on as favourably as could be expected. He
knew how miserably ineffective such messages would be to allay the
dreadful anxiety of her to whom they were addressed; but, as he
asked himself, what more could he write? He took advantage of the
few minutes allowed for luncheon to run up in person to Alder
Cottage. Edith, that day, looked to him a dozen years older than he
had ever seen her look before. Very pale and worn, but very calm
also. But there was something in her eyes—the wild, yearning,
terrified look of some poor hunted creature, as it were, who sees
that for it there is no possible door of escape—which revealed to
Tom something of the terrible struggle going on within. It was but
scant comfort that he could give her, but even for that she was
grateful.
Tom found that he had still five minutes to spare when he got
back to the court, so he hunted up Jabez Creede, whom he found
haunting the purlieus of a neighbouring tavern, but apparently
lacking either the money or the courage to venture inside. Tom
supplied him with both, and, after two steaming glasses of rum and
water, Jabez, with a sort of moist gratitude in his voice, declared that
he felt better—“Very much better indeed, thank you, Mr. Bristow, sir.”

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Systems Analysis and Design 11th Edition Tilley Solutions Manual

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Systems Analysis and Design 11th Edition Tilley Solutions Manual