The Judge glanced at the bulging eyes and gaping mouths of the audience and frowned angrily.
“Officer,” he said sharply, “take those children and deliver them to the defendant.”
There are moments when the Bar does not envy the Bench.
As the Judge’s words reached her, the young mother leaped to her feet and swept the children behind her. Then she backed toward the wall and crouched there like some magnificent wild thing, trembling with that mingling of terror and courage which warns the fiercest beast to caution.
“Let him,” she panted, hoarsely, “let him come—come and take them if—if he dare!”
Mr. Harding rose and stepped toward the woman, laying his hand gently upon her arm. She gazed at him for an instant with no recognition in her eyes, then flung her arms about his neck and laughed the hideous shuddering laughter of hysteria.
Here was entertainment indeed! A red-letter day in the annals of the audience! To-morrow the Court Room would be packed with expectants—all the floating population of the Rotunda would be on hand.
The Judge seemed to think of this.
“Remove that woman!” he ordered.
A court officer stepped forward, and at the same time Fenton moved toward the children.