“’Scuse me, Your Honor,” said William Pickle.
That was all; with a gesture Lawyer Marsh signified that he did not wish to cross-question the officer, and Pickle sat down.
Bern Hayden was called next, and as he rose Ben Stone’s hand involuntarily went up to his mutilated ear, while his pale face became, if possible, a shade more pallid. He kept his eyes unflinchingly on Bern, who, after a single look in his direction, turned his gaze aside.
Bern told his story without hesitation. Chancing to overhear Stone bidding Eliot good-by at the football field, an impulse had led him to leave the field and follow the fellow. Having seen Ben proceed directly into the village, however, he had returned to the field and practiced with the team until it became too dark for further work. With the others he had gone into the gymnasium, where two lockers, his and Eliot’s, had been discovered broken open and rifled. He had lost his watch, two rings, and some money, nearly eight dollars, which he had left in his own locker. He then identified one of the watches and both of the rings as belonging to him, further stating that the money left by him in his locker was a five dollar bill, a two dollar bill, and change which must have amounted to nearly a dollar and a half. Knowing Ben Stone as he did, he had suspected him at once, and therefore he went in search of the deputy sheriff, whom he had some difficulty in finding. He had been on hand when Pickle searched Stone’s room, and had seen the officer uncover the stolen property and take possession of Ben’s note of farewell to Mrs. Jones.
Bern having finished, Lawyer Marsh cross-questioned him.
“Hayden,” said the lawyer, “you were acquainted with Benjamin Stone ere you came here to Oakdale, were you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You knew him, I believe, in Hilton, his native town?”
“I did, sir.”
“And, if I am not misinformed, you had some trouble with him there, did you not?”