“Nothing,” he said.
“There is no fact, no detail, that you may have omitted in your direct testimony, that you now desire to supply?”
“Nothing.”
She took a step nearer, bent on him a yet more searching gaze, and put into her voice its all of conscience-stirring power.
“You wish to go on record then, before this court, before this audience, before the God whom you have appealed to in your oath, as having told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
He averted his eyes and was silent a moment. For that moment Blake, back in the audience, did not breathe. To the crowd it seemed that Doctor Sherman was searching his mind for some possible trivial omission. To Katherine it seemed that he was in the throes of a final struggle.
“You wish thus to go on record?” she solemnly insisted.
He looked back at her.
“I do,” he breathed.
She realized now how desperate was this man’s determination, how tightly his lips were locked. But she had picked up another thread of this tangled skein, and that made her exult with a new hope. She went spiritedly at the cross-examination of Doctor Sherman, striving to break him down. So sharp, so rigid, so searching were her questions, that there were murmurs in the audience against such treatment of a sincere, high-minded man of God. But the swiftness and cleverness of her attack availed her nothing. Doctor Sherman, nerved by last evening’s talk beside the river, made never a slip.