"That they were, sir. The same green lights that are always up. He had taken the light off the post, and was swaying it about, and I couldn't conceive what he was doing it for."
"But here are three witnesses, the stationmaster and the two men, who have sworn that the red signals were up, and not the green," persisted the coroner. "It is very strange that you should maintain the contrary."
"The three may be in a league together to say so, and hide their own negligence," audibly interposed the voice of some zealous partisan from the most crowded part of the room. Upon which the coroner threatened to commit anybody so interrupting, for contempt of himself and the court.
"All I can say is, sir, that there was no difference, that night, in the lights from those exhibited on other nights," returned Cooper. "They were the green lights, and not the red; and if I had to die next minute, I'd say it."
Which was altogether unsatisfactory to the coroner and puzzling to the jury. Most of them knew Cooper well, and would have trusted him; his voice and face, now as he spoke, bore their own testimony to his truth. On the other side, the three station people, who were not to be discredited, gave him the lie direct.
"Did you see the red light swung about?" continued the coroner.
"No, sir. I saw the green; and I couldn't think what it was being swung about for."
Cooper held to this, and nothing more could be got from him--that is, nothing to a different effect. He would have descanted on its being the green light until night, had the coroner allowed him. When he was done with, a gentleman presented himself for examination. It was Colonel West.
"Can you state anything about this matter, Colonel?" asked the coroner, when he had exchanged bows with the voluntary witness.
"Yes, I can, if you will allow me to be sworn." And sworn he was.