"Were there any witnesses?" he asked.
"Only the scab," Mrs. Muscovitz said. "She run away. I guess she's too scared to come back. And the man who helped him get up."
Braun sat for a few minutes, with his chin in his hands, thinking it out.
"We'll have to lie," he said at last. "This is the story. Mrs. Muscovitz was talking to the scab. Pick-Axe twisted her arm and kicked her. That's all true. You tried to separate them. That's true, too, in a way—"
"I tried to kill him," Yetta put in.
"But you mustn't tell the judge that! You tried to separate them, and he slipped on the wet pavement and bumped his head. You two ran away, afraid that he'd attack you. You took a Broadway car and came straight here. Let's see—" he looked at his watch—"You got here about eleven thirty."
"I'd rather tell the truth," Yetta insisted. "Tell the judge just what the snake said to me and why I was mad."
"You can't do that. In the first place the judge would not listen to all of it. And then he would not believe you. They're looking for a chance to say we are using violence. Why did you do it—Oh, well, there's no use asking that. It's done. We've got to lie."
Yetta looked unconvinced.