“Well, who calls this witness—the defense or the prosecution?” inquired the court.
“Oh, let me call myself—as the friend of the court, amicus curiæ, just as they used to do in England—do yet, for all I know. I’ve not heard your evidence—though I saw some just now, outside. But I’ve got a few facts which you may be able to fit in somewhere. I don’t know the defendant, and am not for or against the prosecutor or for anybody or anything except justice. So I’ll take it kindly if you’d let me tell my story in my own way—as the friend of justice. I’ll get over the ground quicker and tell it straighter. If anyone is not satisfied they can cross-examine me afterwards, just as if I had been called by one side or the other.”
Judge Hinkle turned to Wade. “Any objections?”
“No,” said Wade. “I guess justice is what we all want—results, as you said yourself.”
He was a subdued man. His three witnesses stirred uneasily, with sidelong glances. Spinal Maginnis kept a corner of his eye on those witnesses.
“Suits me,” said Johnny.
“I got to get me a drink,” whispered Caney, and rose, tiptoeing. But Maginnis rose with him.
“Sit down, Mr. Caney,” he said. “You look poorly. I’ll fetch you some water.”
Pete Harkey took the stand and was duly sworn. He crossed his legs and addressed the judge.
“Well, we went up in Redgate, Dan Fenderson and I and a bunch. We thought there was no use of more than one coming here to-day, because we all saw just the same things.”