"I reckon it's the January thaw," the old fellow jabbered on, his mind never rising above the mere physical manifestations of nature.
The crowd was denser than ever, and there in the front row, where she had been every day of the trial, was old Mrs. Koerner, with eyes that every day grew deeper and wider, as more and more tragedy was reflected in their profound and mysterious depths.
"Call Henry Griscom," said Eades.
The crowd, the jury, the lawyers, waited. Marriott wondered; he felt Archie's breath in his ear and heard his teeth chatter as he whispered:
"I knew old Jimmy Ball had something framed up. Great God!"
The crowd made way, and the tall, lank form of the deputy warden shambled into the court-room. A man was chained to him.
"Great God!" Archie was chattering; "he's going to split on me!"
The man whom Ball had just unshackled took the oath, and looked indecisively into Ball's eyes. Ball motioned with his cane, and with a slow mechanical step, the man walked to the witness-stand and perched himself uneasily on the edge of the chair.
Archie fixed his eyes on the man in a steady, intense blaze; Marriott heard him cursing horribly.
"The snitch!" he said finally, and then was silent, as if he had put his whole contempt into that one word.