That afternoon the Express, in its largest type, in its editor’s highest-powered English, made its exposure of Harrison Blake. And that afternoon there was pandemonium in Westville. Violence might have been attempted upon Blake, but, fortunately for him, he had gone the night before to Indianapolis—on a matter of state politics, it was said.
Blake, however, was a man to fight to the last ditch. On the morning after the publication of the Express’s charges, the Clarion printed an indignant denial from him. That same morning Bruce was arrested on a charge of criminal libel, and that same day—the grand jury being in session—he was indicted. Blake’s attorney demanded that, since these charges had a very direct bearing upon the approaching election, the trial should take precedence over other cases and be heard immediately. To this Bruce eagerly agreed, for he desired nothing better than to demolish Blake in court, and the trial was fixed for five days before election.
Katherine, going about, heard the people jeer at Blake’s denial; heard them say that his demand for a trial was mere bravado to save his face for a time—that when the trial came he would never show up. She saw the former favourite of Westville become in an hour an object of universal abomination. And, on the other hand, she saw Bruce leap up to the very apex of popularity.
For Bruce’s sake, for every one’s sake but her own, she was rejoiced. But as for herself, she walked in the valley of humiliation, she ate of the ashes of bitterness. Swept aside by the onrush of events, feeling herself and her plans suddenly become futile, she decided to cease all efforts and countermand all orders. But she could not veto her plan concerning Doctor Sherman, for her money was spent and her advertisements were broadcast through the North. As for Mr. Manning, he stated that he had become so interested in the situation that he was going to stay on in Westville for a time to see how affairs came out.
On the day of the trial Katherine and the city had one surprise at the very start. Contrary to all predictions, Harrison Blake was in the court-room and at the prosecution’s table. Despite all the judge, the clerk, and the sheriff could do to maintain order, there were cries and mutterings against him. Not once did he flinch, but sat looking straight ahead of him, or whispering to his private attorney or to the public prosecutor, Kennedy. He was a brave man. Katherine had known that.
Bruce, all confidence, recited on the witness stand how he had come by his evidence. Then the assistant superintendent told with most convincing detail how he had succumbed to Blake’s temptation and done his bidding. Next, the engineer testified to the same effect.
The crowd lowered at Blake. Certainly matters looked blacker than ever for the one-time idol of the city.
But Blake sat unmoved. His calmness begat a sort of uneasiness in Katherine. When the engineer had completed his direct testimony, Kennedy arose, and following whispered suggestions from Blake, cross-questioned the witness searchingly, ever more searchingly, pursued him in and out, in and out, till at length, snap!—Katherine’s heart stood still, and the crowd leaned forward breathless—snap, and he had caught the engineer in a contradiction!
Kennedy went after the engineer with rapid-fire questions that involved the witness in contradiction on contradiction—that got him confused, then hopelessly tangled up—that then broke him down completely and drew from him a shamefaced confession. The fact was, he said, that Mr. Bruce, wanting campaign material, had privately come to him and paid him to make his statements. He had had no dealings with Mr. Blake whatever. He was a poor man—his wife was sick with the fever—he had needed the money—he hoped the court would be lenient with him—etc., etc. The other witness, recalled, confessed to the same story.
Amid a stunned court room, Bruce sprang to his feet.