“Mrs. Armitage and her husband—Mrs. Carling’s mother and father,” said Cacciola.
Mrs. Armitage it was, who, having realized that as a close connection of the two central figures in this poignant drama of life, she was a person of importance in the eyes of the public, had decided that it was her duty to attend the court; and already, with much complacence, had permitted herself to be “snapped” by several Press photographers lying in wait outside, and had assumed a most pathetic expression in the hope that it would “come out well.”
Maddelena noted every detail of her attire and manner, and with keen feminine intuition summed her up accurately on the instant. “So. If the daughter is like the mother then I, for one, will spare no sympathy for her,” she decided.
Cacciola touched her arm.
“Behold, here is Mrs. Carling. The poor girl, my heart bleeds for her. Miss Winston is with her. That is good.”
There was a buzz and flutter, as necks were craned in the endeavour to see Grace Carling’s face, but she kept her heavy veil down, and appeared absolutely unconscious of the presence of those inquisitive onlookers, as she gravely accepted her mother’s effusive greeting, and then seated herself with her back to the crowd, where she would have an uninterrupted view of her husband when he should be brought into the dock.
Winnie Winston became the centre of attention for the moment, as, seeing Cacciola, she made her way across to speak to him, and unashamedly every one in the vicinity tried to overhear. Only Melikoff maintained his sullen, brooding attitude. He had come there to-day to see but one person, Roger Carling, the enemy whom he hated.
“How is Mrs. Carling?” asked Cacciola.
“Very well, and wonderfully brave,” said Winnie. “They both are, as they should be, for he is innocent, maestro. But it is terrible for us all. Is this your niece? I have heard of her, but we haven’t met before.”
He introduced the girls, and Maddelena leant down over the barrier and spoke with charming courtesy.