176“Mostly trying to persuade Murgie here that it was his move.”
“But your horse needed exercise. Did you at any time ride across the river?”
“I didn’t notice. Have you anyone who saw me cross?”
“Goot!” blurted out the Austrian who was one of the judges, so suddenly that everybody half jumped. “Ya, das iss die cosa, sabe! Who has him seen cross?”
The court floundered. The witness demanded by the accused was lacking. Murguía, a restless, huddled form on a straw-bottomed chair, was watching hungrily every step in the examination. Now he shifted excitedly, and his sharp jaws worked with a grinding motion. Then his voice came, a raucous outburst.
“Search him, Your Mercy!”
Lopez browbeat the meddler, and–took his advice. Driscoll submitted tolerantly to their fumbling over him, and all the while Murguía looked on as a famished dog, especially when they pulled out the whiskey flask. But when they tossed the thing aside, he sank deep into his black coat and gave vent to mumblings.
“Of course we find nothing,” Lopez complained, “since his accomplice recommended the search.”
It seemed, too, that the state’s case must fall.
“The Captain Maurel charge cannot hold,” announced the court.