"Of course I did. Mr. Blackmore—he was our manager—gave me his sworn statement."
Townsend for the first time really saw the paper in front of him. He read it carefully, answering in tones of quick delight. "Yes, here it is and a deposition dated Chicago stating that Davis left you without warning and refused to dance with you again."
"Yes, your Honor," she cooed.
There was silence while Townsend scrutinized the papers in front of him. Margaret sat with her eyes anxiously fastened on him. With a nod of satisfaction he shoved the papers aside and, smiling down at her, announced in kindly tones, "Your decree is granted."
"Your Honor!" She arose from her chair and sat down in it again, a copious flow of tears making it impossible for her to leave the stand.
Townsend reached for the glass of water and held it toward her once again. "Please, please, Mrs. Davis," he endeavored to calm her, but his compassion only served to bring on another storm. "I'm so emotional," she sobbed, "I can't stop it!"
Townsend looked about helplessly. A sudden awakening to his own prerogative solved the dilemma. "Mr. Sheriff, announce a recess," he ordered. And leaving the bench, he went to Mrs. Davis and guided her into his chambers.
The crowd filed out of the court-room, while Thomas, weak with shame and disappointment, took his seat at the table again, impatiently toying with a paper-knife that had fallen from his pin-seal brief-case.
Blodgett went to him and leaned over with the intention of reassuring him, when there was a disturbance at the window which opened from a balcony a few feet above the street. Both of the men turned just in time to see John Marvin climb through the window and pull his suit-case in after him.
The sheriff stepped forward, hesitating as he realized his powers were negative in a court-room.