Yollop: "Certainly."
The State: "Now, Mr. Yollop, I'm going to ask you to tell the jury, in your own words, exactly what occurred in your apartment on the morning of December 18th. Speak slowly and distinctly, and face the jury."
Mr. Yollop, assisted to some extent by the gentleman conducting the examination, related the story of the crime, dwelling with special earnestness upon the dastardly, brutal manner in which Smilk forced him, at the point of a revolver to bind and gag and otherwise maltreat the woman who had befriended him and whose jewels he was preparing to make off with when the police arrived. He carefully avoided any allusion to certain portions of the lengthy and illuminating dialogue that had taken place between him and Smilk; he said nothing of the unexampled behavior of the intruder in telephoning for the police, or the kindness revealed by him in suggesting a means for getting his captor's feet warm.
Smilk's lawyer, at the very outset of the cross-examination, clarified the air as to the nature of the defense he was going to put up for his client. After a few preliminary questions, he demanded sharply:
"Now, Mr. Yollop, didn't this defendant state to you that he had been unable to get work and that his wife and family were in such desperate straits that he was forced to commit a crime against the State in order to preserve them from actual starvation?"
Yollop: "He did not."
Counsel: "You are quite positive about that, are you?"
Yollop: "Yes."
Counsel: "Did he, at the time appear to be a robust, well-conditioned man,—that is to say, a man who looked strong enough to work and who had had sufficient nourishment to keep his body and soul together?"
Yollop: "He certainly did."