"How so?" he asked, with irony.
Harris opened out his hands with a simple gesture that seemed to leave his logic to the judgment of any impartial observer.
"In times of peace, my profession is that of the Law. I know my ground—and," in rising tones of sincerity, "I challenge you to shake it in any civil court in Christendom."
"Strong words, young man," came the stern reply. "For your sake, I hope they are warranted. What is your point? Get at it!"
Harris drew a short breath of relief. He had cleverly switched the appeal from grounds on which he stood no chance whatever to those where he did not fear any intellect in a fair fight.
"The evidence," he said calmly, "was purely circumstantial. In the first place, it is alleged that my client captured a Rebel spy, one Herbert Cary, who was hiding in the loft of a cabin."
The General's caustic tones interrupted. "To which fact," he said, "there were only ten witnesses."
"Yes, General," was the faintly smiling agreement. "Ten! But not one of them actually saw the man! They believe he was there, but they cannot swear to it."
Grant made a motion as of putting away something of no consequence. "Immaterial—in view of the other facts. Well—what else?"
"Next, it is claimed that Morrison released this spy and allowed him to enter the Union lines—without regard to consequences."