London, Westminster.
The sun rose slowly over Trafalgar Square.
At number 4 Whitehall, in the interrogation room of the Greater London Police Department headquarters.
Mr. Disraeli looked up at the light streaming through the iron bars and leaned back in his chair, exhausted, as he spoke.
"Officer, you've been questioning me all night, when will this end? How many times must I say it? I was making an election speech at Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park yesterday afternoon, but I left in the evening, and I really didn't see anyone hanged in the Maple Forest behind!"
Sitting across from Disraeli was the equally weary Charles Field. He dozed with his hand propping up his face and his eyes half-open.
In a daze, he began to speak, "Mr. Disraeli, we believe in your personal honor. You had no social connection to the deceased, so we believe you are certainly innocent. But it was necessary to bring you in for questioning.