"These are facts," reiterates Mr. Rand, excitedly. "Who has seen this wonderful Bathurst, with his bundle of testimony? Who knows the man? Why is he not here in court? Where is he?"
"Here!"
Clear and full the voice rings over the room, transfixing for one moment the entire court; then the gavel descends; order is commanded with double unction, because of the recent lapse. Mr. O'Meara is on his feet; Mr. Rand's impromptu speech is at an end.
"More theatricals," snarls Mr. Rand, flinging himself violently down into his seat.
But no one heeds him; all eyes are fixed upon the new comers.
Near the door of the court room they stand grouped close together.
Mr. Wedron, dignified and placid as usual.
Mrs. Lamotte, with head proudly poised, and eyes that seem wells of pent-up anguish.
Evan Lamotte, looking like a lost and almost disembodied spirit.
Frank Lamotte, who during the time Mr. Belknap has occupied in giving his testimony, has quietly re-entered the room, seeming to have recovered, and looking almost composed, looks with the rest, and is once more, for a moment, startled out of all semblance of calmness; he starts up from his seat, then sinks back weakly, a desperate hunted look in his eyes, his hands clenched and working nervously.