“You are making a point of honor of it?” said the judge, sharply but not unkindly, looking over his glasses at the raw citadel of virtue which rose towerlike before him.
“If you will forgive me, sir, I have no more to say,” said Joe, a flitting shadow, as of pain, passing over his face.
“Sit down,” said the judge.
The prosecutor, all on fire from his smothered attempt to uncover the information which he believed himself so nearly in possession of, started to say something, and Hammer got the first syllable of his objection out of his mouth, when the judge waved both of them down. He turned in his 291 chair to Joe, who was waiting calmly now the next event.
Judge Maxwell addressed him again. He pointed out to Joe that, since he had taken the witness-stand, he had thus professed his willingness to lay bare all his knowledge of the tragedy, and that his reservation was an indication of insincerity. The one way in which he could have withheld information not of a self-incriminating nature, was for him to have kept off the stand. He showed Joe that one could not come forward under such circumstances and tell one side of a story, or a part of it, confessing at the same time that certain pertinent information was reserved.
“No matter who it hurts, it is your duty now to reveal the cause of your quarrel between yourself and Isom Chase that night, and to repeat, to the best of your recollection, the words which passed between you.”
He explained that, unless Joe should answer the question, it was the one duty of the court to halt the trial there and send him to jail in contempt, and hold him there, his case undecided, until he would answer the question asked.
Joe bowed respectfully when the judge concluded, conveying in that manner that he understood.
“If anything could be gained by it, sir, by anybody–except myself, perhaps–or if it would bring Isom back to life, or make anybody happier, I wouldn’t refuse a minute, sir,” said Joe. “What Mr. Lucas asks me to tell I’ve refused to tell before. I’ve refused to tell it for my own mother and Mr. Hammer and–others. I respect the law and this court, sir, as much as any man in this room, and it pains me to stand in this position before you, sir.
“But I can’t talk about that. It wouldn’t change what I’ve told about the way Isom was killed. What I’ve told you is the truth. What passed between Isom and me before he took hold of the gun isn’t mine to tell. That’s all there is to be said, Judge Maxwell, sir.” 292