“Now, your honor,” began the prosecutor complainingly, “it seems to me that the time and place for evidence of this nature has gone by. This witness has testified already, and to an entirely different set of facts. I don’t know what influences have been at work to induce her to frame up a new story, but––”
“Your zeal is commendable, Mr. Prosecutor,” said the judge, “but it must not be allowed to obscure the human rights at hazard in this case. Let the witness proceed.”
Ollie shuddered like one entering cold water as she let her eyes take a flight out over the crowd. Perhaps she saw something in it that appalled her, or perhaps she realized only then that she was about to expose the nakedness of her soul before the world.
“Go ahead, Mrs. Chase,” prompted Hammer. “You say you know about that sack of money?”
“I was taking it away with me,” said she, drawing a long breath and expelling it with an audible sigh.
She seemed very tired, and she looked most hopeless, pitiable, and forlorn; still there was no wavering from the task that she had set for herself, no shrinking from its pain. “I was going to meet Curtis Morgan, the book-agent man that you’ve asked me about before. We intended to run off to the city together. Joe knew about it; he stopped me that night.”
She paused again, picking at her fingers nervously.
“You say that Joe stopped you–” Hammer began. She cut him off, taking up her suspended narrative without spirit, as one resumes a burden.
“Yes, but let me tell you first.” She looked frankly into Judge Maxwell’s eyes.
“Address the jury, Mrs. Chase,” admonished Hammer. 329 She turned and looked steadily into the foreman’s bearded face.