“Your Honor, we regret to state that, from the replies which Miss Ariza has given, we do not consider her mentally competent as a witness. We therefore dismiss her.”
But Cass had leaped to the floor. “Your Honor!” he cried. “I should like to examine the witness further!”
“She is dismissed!” returned the judge, glowering over his spectacles at the young lawyer.
“I stand on––”
“Sit down!” the judge bellowed.
“Miss Carmen!” called Cass through the rising tumult, “the lawyer for the prosecution has heaped insults upon you in his low references to your parentage. Will you––”
The judge pounded upon his desk with the remnant of his broken gavel. Then he summoned the bailiffs.
“I shall order the room cleared!” he called in a loud, threatening voice.
The murmur subsided. The judge sat down and mopped his steaming face. Hood and Ellis bent in whispered consultation. Ames was a study of wild, infuriated passion. Cass stood defiantly before the bar. Carmen sat quietly facing the crowded room. She had reached up and was fondling the little locket which hung at her throat. It was the first time she had ever worn it. It was not a pretty piece of jewelry; and it had never occurred to her to wear it until that day. Nor would she have thought of it then, had not the Beaubien brought it to the Tombs the night before in a little box with some papers which the girl had called for. Why she had put it on, she could not say.