"What else, if anything, did he say about Kouka?"
"Oh, he said Kouka'd been laggin' him, and he was goin' to get him. He talked about it pretty much all the time."
"Is that all?"
"That's about all, yes, sir."
"Take the witness."
Griscom, evidently relieved, had started to leave the chair, and as he moved he drew his palm across a gray brow that suddenly broke out in repulsive little drops of perspiration.
"One moment, Griscom," said Marriott, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
The court was very still, and every one hung with an interest equal to Marriott's on the convict's next words. Griscom found all this interest too strong; his pallid lips were parted; he drew his breath with difficulty, his chest was moving with automatic jerks; presently he coughed.
Marriott began to question the convict about his conversations with Archie. He did this in the belief that while Archie had no doubt breathed his vengeance against Kouka, his words, under the circumstances, were not to be given that dreadful significance which now they were made to assume. He could imagine that they had been uttered idly, and that they bore no real relation to his shooting of Kouka. But the difficulty was to make this clear to the crystallized, stupid and formal minds of the jury, or rather to Broadwell, who was the jury. He tried to induce Griscom to describe the circumstances under which Archie had made these threats, but Griscom was almost as stupid as the jurors, and the law was more stupid than either, for Griscom in his effort to meet the questions was continually making answers that involved his own conclusions, and to them Eades always objected, and Glassford always sustained the objections. And Marriott experienced the same sensations that he had when Quinn was testifying. There was no way to reproduce Archie's manner--his tone, his expression, the look in his eyes.
To hide his chagrin, Marriott wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, leaned over and consulted his notes.