"I have no memory for words," she began, but flushed as she met the eye of the Judge, and perhaps remembered her oath. "I do recollect, however, one expression he used. He said: 'My life is worth nothing to me without success. If only to win you, I must put this matter through; and I will do it yet.'"
She repeated this quietly, giving it no emphasis and scarcely any inflection, as if she hoped by her mechanical way of uttering it to rob it of any special meaning. But she did not succeed, as was shown by the compassionate tone in which Mr. Ferris next addressed her.
"Miss Dare, did you express any anger yourself at the refusal of Mrs. Clemmens to assist the prisoner by lending him such moneys as he required?"
"Yes, sir; I fear I did. It seemed unreasonable to me then, and I was very anxious he should have that opportunity to make fame and fortune which I thought his genius merited."
"Miss Dare," inquired the District Attorney, calling to his aid such words as he had heard from old Sally in reference to this interview, "did you make use of any such expression as this: 'I wish I knew Mrs. Clemmens'?"
"I believe I did."
"And did this mean you had no acquaintance with the murdered woman at that time?" pursued Mr. Ferris, half-turning to the prisoner's counsel, as if he anticipated the objection which that gentleman might very properly make to a question concerning the intention of a witness.
And Mr. Orcutt, yielding to professional instinct, did indeed make a slight movement as if to rise, but became instantly motionless. Nothing could be more painful to him than to wrangle before the crowded court-room over these dealings between the woman he loved and the man he was now defending.
Mr. Ferris turned back to the witness and awaited her answer. It came without hesitation.
"It meant that, sir."