We Two Part 61

The next morning it all came over again with increased disagreeableness.

"Erica always was the plucky one," said Tom to his mother as they watched her enter the witness box. "She always did the confessing when we got into sc.r.a.pes. I only hope that brute of a Cringer won't put her out of countenance."

He need not have feared, though in truth Erica was tried to the utmost.

To begin with, it was one of the very hottest of the dog-days, and the court was crowded to suffocation. This was what the public considered the most interesting day of the trial for it was the most personal one, and the English have as great a taste for personalities as the Americans though it is not so constantly gratified. Apparently Mr. Cringer, being a shrewd man, had managed in the night watches to calculate Erica's one vulnerable point. She was fatally clear-headed; most aggravatingly and palpably truthful; most unfortunately fascinating; and, though naturally quick-tempered, most annoyingly self-controlled. But she was evidently delicate. If he could sufficiently hara.s.s and tire her, he might make her say pretty much what he pleased.

This, at least, was the conclusion at which he had arrived. And if it was indeed his duty to the defendant to exhaust both fair means and foul in the endeavor to win him his case, then he certainly fulfilled his duty. For six long hours, with only a brief interval for luncheon, Erica was baited, badgered, tormented with questions which in themselves were insults, a.s.sured that she had said what she had not said, tempted to say what she did not mean, involved in fruitless discussions about places and dates and, in fact, so thoroughly tortured, that most girls would long before have succ.u.mbed. She did not succ.u.mb, but she grew whiter and whiter save when some vile insinuation brought a momentary wave of crimson across her face.

Tom listened breathlessly to the examination which went on in a constant crescendo of bitterness.

"The plaintiff was in the habit of doing this?"

"Yes."

"Your suspicion was naturally excited, then?"

"Certainly not."

"Not excited?" incredulously.

"Not in the least."

"You are an inmate of the plaintiff's house, I believe?"

"I am."

"But this has not always been the case?"

"All my life with the exception of two years."

"Your reason for the two years' absence had a connection with the plaintiff's mode of life, had it not?"

"Not in the sense you wish to imply. It had a connection with our extreme poverty."

"Though an inmate of you father's house, you are often away from home?"

"No, very rarely."

"Oblige me by giving a straightforward answer. What do you mean by rarely?"

"Very seldom."

"This is mere equivocation; will you give me a straightforward reply?"

"I can't make it more so," said Erica, keeping her temper perfectly and replying to the nagging interrogatories. "Do you mean once a year, twice a year?" etc., etc., with a steady patience which foiled Mr. Cringer effectually. He opened a fresh subject.

"Do you remember the 1st of September last year?"

"I do."

"Do you remember what happened then?"

"Partridge shooting began."

There was much laughter at this reply; she made it partly because even now the comic side of everything struck her, partly because she wanted to gain time. What in the world was Mr. Cringer driving at?

"Did not something occur that night in Guilford Terrace which you were anxious to conceal?"

For a moment Erica was dumfounded. It flashed upon her that he knew of the Haeberlein adventure and meant to serve his purpose by distorting it into something very different. Luckily she was almost as rapid a thinker as her father; she saw that there was before her a choice of two evils.

She must either allow Mr. Cringer to put an atrocious construction on her unqualified "yes" or she must boldly avow Haeberlein's visit.

"With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal," she replied.

"Will you swear that there was NOTHING to conceal?"

"With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal," she replied.

"Don't bandy words with me. Will you repeat my formula 'Nothing to conceal?'"

"No, I will not repeat that."

"You admit that there WAS something to conceal?"

"If you call Eric Haeberlein 'something' yes."

There was a great sensation in the court at these words. But Mr. Cringer was nonplused. The mysterious "something," out of which he had intended to make such capital, was turned into a boldly avowed reality a reality which would avail him nothing. Moreover, most people would now see through his very unworthy maneuvers. Furiously he hurled question upon question at Erica. He surpa.s.sed himself in sheer bullying. By this time, too, she was very weary. The long hours of standing, the insufferable atmosphere, the incessant stabs at her father's character made the examination almost intolerable. And the difficulty of answering the fire of questions was great. She struggled on, however, until the time came when Raeburn stood up to ask whether a certain question was allowable.

She looked at him then for the first time, saw how terribly he was feeling her interminable examination, and for a moment lost heart. The rows of people grew hazy and indistinct. Mr. Cringer's face got all mixed up with his wig, she had to hold tightly to the railing. How much longer could she endure?

"Yet you doubtless thought this probable?" continued her tormentor.

"Oh, no! On the contrary, quite the reverse," said Erica with a momentary touch of humor.

"Are you acquainted with the popular saying: 'None are so blind as those who will not see?'"

The tone was so insulting that indignation restored Erica to her full strength; she was stung into giving a sharp retort.

"Yes," she said very quietly. "It has often occurred to me during this action as strangely applicable to the defendant."

Mr. Cringer looked as if he could have eaten her. There was a burst of applause which was speedily suppressed.

"Yet you do not, of course, mean to deny the whole allegation?"

"Emphatically!"

"Are you aware that people will think you either a deluded innocent or an infamous deceiver?"

"I am not here to consider what people may think of me, but to speak the truth."

And as she spoke she involuntarily glanced toward those twelve fellow-countrymen of hers upon whose verdict so much depended. Probably even the oldest, even the coldest of the jurymen felt his heart beat a little faster as those beautiful, sad honest eyes scanned the jury box.