“And I object, too—I object to a great many things! I object to the appalling gravity of a trial for murder being turned into a farce by the kind of thing that’s been going on here this morning. I’m entirely serious in saying that Mr. Lambert might just as well select me as a target for his insinuations. I used to live in Rosemont. I have a good sharp pocket knife—my wife hasn’t a sapphire ring to her name—I’ve been arrested three times—twice for exceeding a speed limit of twenty-two miles an hour and once for trying to reason with a traffic cop who had delusions of grandeur and a——”
“That will do, Mr. Farr.” There was a highly peremptory note in Judge Carver’s voice. “The Court has exercised possibly undue liberality in permitting you to extend your observations on this point, because it seemed well taken. It does not believe that you will gain anything by further elaboration. Mr. Lambert your last question is overruled. Have you any further ones to put to the witness?”
Mr. Lambert, looking a striking combination of a cross baby and a bulldog, did not take these observations kindly. “Am I denied the opportunity of attacking the credibility of the extraordinary collection of individuals that Mr. Farr chooses to produce as witnesses?”
“You are not. In what way does your inquiry as to Mr. Orsini’s inability to provide a young woman with an engagement ring purport to attack his credibility?”
“It purports to show that Orsini had a distinct motive for robbery and——”
“Precisely. And precisely for that reason, since Mr. Orsini is not on trial here, the Court considers the question irrelevant and incompetent, as well as improper. Have you any further ones to put?”
“No.” The rage that was consuming the unchastened Mr. Lambert choked his utterance and bulged his eyes. “No further questions. May I have an exception from Your Honour’s ruling?”
“Certainly.”
Orsini, stepping briskly down from the witness box, lingered long enough to bestow on his late inquisitor a glance in which knives flashed and blood flowed freely—a glance which Mr. Lambert, goaded by frustrated rage, returned with interest. The violence remained purely ocular, however, and the obviously disappointed spectators began to crawl laboriously to their feet.
“Call for Turner.”