The girls had been insensibly impressed by Kitty's fearless bearing. As she stood there she certainly looked the last kind of girl to be accused of anything dishonourable or despicable. Salome drew her straight brows together and her face became very thoughtful.
"Van," she murmured under her breath to the head prefect of Prince's, "I believe that girl's telling the truth when she says she didn't touch my balances. Don't you?"
"But Salome, if she didn't, it must have been——"
"Hush," said Salome with a quick gesture.
"No, I can't believe that either. Bother it all!"
"Prisoner at the Bar," Paddy was saying with awful solemnity. "Are you or are you not guilty of this terrible and most depraved crime?"
"Not guilty," replied Kitty, clearly and unhesitatingly.
"We will now call the first witness," resumed Paddy, who had her witnesses ready in the adjoining room and was confident of the effect of their absurd appearance upon the audience. "Constable——" She broke off abruptly.
There was a quick gasp from the audience; everyone became rigid. One of the listening girls had sprung to her feet, and now strode impetuously into the centre of the room. It was Duane, her face strangely pale, her habitual lazy, unemotional expression gone, giving place to a curious look of uncertainty, doubt, fear, even horror. One of the girls possessed with a vivid imagination afterwards described it with relish as a "sort of haunted look."
She had jumped to her feet as if impelled by some force outside her own volition; she spoke now, impulsively, stammeringly, the words breaking from her as if she hardly knew what she was saying, twisting her fingers together and looking from side to side.