"A change," said I, "would be wholesome for her."
"She wouldn't know what to do," replied Chester. "And if she were to hear these charges—against herself! Why, I don't know what she might not do! She'd be absolutely desperate. She'd think she had no one to defend her—and you know the Frayn way."
"I shall not endeavor," said I, after consideration, "to reconcile medieval notions of honor and personal dignity with proceedings under the Iowa Code. Neither do I feel it prudent for me to see this person."
For a few minutes Chester sat grinding his teeth and gripping the desk, and then rushed from the office calling me a white-livered dub, and telling me to go plumb to some place the name of which was cut off by the door's slamming. I sat in the office feeling a sense of unrest, until the time for going to court, where I found Judge Worthington on the bench, Chester sitting at the defendant's table, and no Miss Frayn.
"Are both sides ready in the next case?" asked the judge, without looking at the calendar.
"We wish to put the defendant on the stand for a few questions," said Beasley, Middlekauff's lawyer. "I don't see her in court, your Honor."
"Call the witness!" said the judge; and the bailiff shouted three times: "Robert Lefrayne!"
"Has this man Lefrayne been subpœnaed?" asked the judge; "as he is defendant, I don't suppose you thought it necessary, Mr. Beasley."
We could all see that the mispronunciation of the name had misled the judge as to the identity of the defendant.
"To make sure," said Beasley, "we subpœnaed the party. Here is the writ, your Honor, with proof of service."