In a moment Billson was on his feet and shouting:

"It's a lie! It's an infamous lie!"

The Chair. "Be seated, sir! Mr. Wilson has the floor."

Billson's friends pulled him into his seat and quieted him, and Wilson
went on:

"Those are the simple facts. My note was now lying in a different place
on the table from where I had left it. I noticed that, but attached no
importance to it, thinking a draught had blown it there. That Mr.
Billson would read a private paper was a thing which could not occur to
me; he was an honourable man, and he would be above that. If you will
allow me to say it, I think his extra word '_very_' stands explained: it
is attributable to a defect of memory. I was the only man in the world
who could furnish here any detail of the test-mark--by _honourable_
means. I have finished."

There is nothing in the world like a persuasive speech to fuddle the
mental apparatus and upset the convictions and debauch the emotions of an
audience not practised in the tricks and delusions of oratory. Wilson
sat down victorious. The house submerged him in tides of approving
applause; friends swarmed to him and shook him by the hand and
congratulated him, and Billson was shouted down and not allowed to say a
word. The Chair hammered and hammered with its gavel, and kept shouting:

"But let us proceed, gentlemen, let us proceed!"