“With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal,” she replied.
“Will you swear that there was NOTHING to conceal?”
“With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal,” she replied.
“Don't bandy words with me. Will you repeat my formula 'Nothing to conceal?'”
“No, I will not repeat that.”
“You admit that there WAS something to conceal?”
“If you call Eric Haeberlein 'something' yes.”
There was a great sensation in the court at these words. But Mr. Cringer was nonplused. The mysterious “something,” out of which he had intended to make such capital, was turned into a boldly avowed reality a reality which would avail him nothing. Moreover, most people would now see through his very unworthy maneuvers. Furiously he hurled question upon question at Erica. He surpassed himself in sheer bullying. By this time, too, she was very weary. The long hours of standing, the insufferable atmosphere, the incessant stabs at her father's character made the examination almost intolerable. And the difficulty of answering the fire of questions was great. She struggled on, however, until the time came when Raeburn stood up to ask whether a certain question was allowable. She looked at him then for the first time, saw how terribly he was feeling her interminable examination, and for a moment lost heart. The rows of people grew hazy and indistinct. Mr. Cringer's face got all mixed up with his wig, she had to hold tightly to the railing. How much longer could she endure?
“Yet you doubtless thought this probable?” continued her tormentor.
“Oh, no! On the contrary, quite the reverse,” said Erica with a momentary touch of humor.