“Your honor,” he said, “I must again direct your attention to the irregular conduct of the prisoner. She has now turned her back to the jury, and covered her face with her hands. This is merely a method of evading the injunction which your honor saw fit to impose upon her with respect to her veil. I must insist upon her displaying her full face to the jury.”
Mr. Sondheim, of counsel for the defendant: “If the Court please, it strikes me that my learned brother is really a trifle too exacting. I can certainly see no objection to my client’s holding her hands to her face. Considering the painfulness of her situation, it is no more than natural that she should desire to shield her face. I must beg the Court to remember that this prisoner is no ordinary criminal, but a lady of refined and sensitive instincts. A little indulgence, it seems to me, is due to her on account of her sex.”
The district-attorney: “The prisoner had better understand once for all that her sex isn’t going to protect her in this prosecution. The law is no respecter of sex. As for her refined and sensitive instincts, if she has any, I advise her to put them into her pocket. This jury has too much good sense to be affected by any exhibition that she may make for their benefit. I submit the matter to the Court’s good judgment.”
The recorder: “Madam, you will turn your chair toward the jury, and keep your face uncovered.”
The district-attorney: “Well, Mr. Martin, what next?”
The witness: “Weil, sir, I hurried along down as fast as ever I could, and stopped at my own place just long enough to tell my wife what had happened, and to send her up to Mrs. Peixada with a bottle of spirits to bring her around. Then I went to the station-house, and informed the gentleman at the desk of the state of affairs. Him and a couple of officers came back with me; and they, your honor, took charge of the premises, and—and that’s all I know about it.”
Martin was not cross-examined. Police Sergeant Riley, succeeding him, gave an account of the prisoner’s arrest and of her subsequent demeanor at the station-house. “The lady,” said he, “appeared to be unable to walk—leastwise, she limped all the way with great difficulty. We thought she was shamming, and treated her accordingly. But afterwards it turned out that she had a sprained ankle.” She had answered the formal questions—name? age? residence?—in full; and to the inquiry whether she desired to make any statement or remark relative to the charge preferred against her, had replied, “Nothing, except that I shot them both—Bernard Peixada and Edward Bolen.” They had locked her up in the captain’s private room for the rest of the night; and the following morning she had been transferred to the Tombs.
The next witness was Miss Ann Doyle.
“Miss Doyle, what is your occupation?” asked the district-attorney.
“I am a cook, sir.”