He turned to Elizabeth. "Do you know of any reason," he asked, "why he should not wish to come?"
Elizabeth's hands were clasped together nervously. "I—I cannot tell."
"Did you send for him, as soon as you knew that his testimony was needed?"
"I did not."
"Why did you not?" said the District Attorney, in his sneering voice.
The color flushed into her face. "Because I—because I"—Her voice faltered and broke. "I did not wish him sent for," she said, with a sudden flash of defiance. Then she turned deathly white, and put up her handkerchief to her lips. "I—will not answer any more questions," she added, faintly.
After all, it had been very bad—worse, far worse, than she had expected. She felt as she left the stand that she had done her cause only harm. It seemed to her moreover, that whether she were acquitted or found guilty, she could never, after the abasement of that cross-examination, hold up her head again.
The outlook was gloomy, and the case for the defence was almost closed. But when Mrs. Bobby arrived in court the next morning, she was greeted by Mr. Fenton with a broad smile.
"We must put the handwriting experts on again," he said, cheerfully. "It will be dull, but anything to gain time. I have had a cable from Mr. Gerard. He will be here in a few days."