“Look!” I cried. “Oh, everybody, how the palms of his gloves are covered with rust!”
XIII. The Pumpkin Coach
The story of the American Ambassadress was not the only one related on this night.
Sir Henry Marquis himself added another, in support of the contention of his guest... and from her own country.
The lawyer walked about the room. The restraint which he had assumed was now quite abandoned.
“That's all there is to it,” he said. “I'm not trying this case for amusement. You have the money to pay me and you must bring it up here now, tonight.”
The woman sat in a chair beyond the table. She was young, but she looked worn and faded. Misery and the long strain of the trial had worn her out. Her hands moved nervously in the frayed coat-cuffs.
“But we haven't any more money,” she said. “The hundred dollars I paid you in the beginning is all we have.”
The man laughed without disturbing the muscles of his face. “You can take your choice,” he said. “Either bring the money up here now, to-night, or I withdraw from the case when court opens in the morning.”