“If the matter which you are withholding,” began the judge in formal speech, “would tend to incriminate you, then you are acting within your constitutional rights in refusing to answer. If not, then you can be lodged in jail for contempt of court, and held there until you answer the question which the prosecuting attorney has asked you. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, sir; I understand,” said Joe.
“Then,” said the judge, “would it incriminate you to reply to the prosecuting attorney’s question?” 290
A faint flush spread on Joe’s face as he replied:
“No, Judge Maxwell, it wouldn’t incriminate me, sir.”
Free for the moment from his watchful sword-play of eyes with the prosecutor, Joe had sought Alice’s face when he replied to the judge. He was still holding her eyes when the judge spoke again.
“Then you must answer the question, or stand in contempt of court,” said he.
Joe rose slowly to his feet. The sheriff, perhaps thinking that he designed making a dash for liberty, or to throw himself out of a window, rushed forward in official zeal. The judge, studying Joe’s face narrowly, waved the officer back. Joe lifted a hand to his forehead in thoughtful gesture and stroked back his hair, standing thus in studious pose a little while. A thousand eyes were bent upon him; five hundred palpitating brains were aching for the relief of his reply. Joe lifted his head and turned solemnly to the judge.
“I can’t answer the prosecuting attorney’s question, sir,” he said. “I’m ready to be taken back to jail.”
The jurors had been leaning out of their places to listen, the older ones with hands cupped to their ears. Now they settled back with disappointed faces, some of them shaking their heads in depreciation of such stubbornness.