"And I contend, sir," exclaimed the judge advocate, "that Symonds' testimony is direct evidence. He saw the despatch in Captain Lloyd's hand."
"You are right there, sir," said Warren courteously. "But Symonds did not see Captain Lloyd take that despatch from the dead body of the Confederate. He believes that that paper was taken from Major Pegram only because Captain Lloyd told him so—and that, sir, is hearsay evidence. And I demand in justice to my client, whose life hangs in the balance, that hearsay evidence be not accepted in this trial."
Major Lane hastily scribbled a few lines, and handed the paper to the judge advocate, who immediately read the question aloud:
"What induces you to think, Mr. Senator, that Captain Lloyd, a man of integrity and standing, would manufacture evidence against the accused?"
"Because of his known animosity toward her," was the prompt reply, "in proof of which I have direct evidence to offer to this court."
The judge advocate, however, stuck to his argument, and a quick war of words followed, during which Colonel Andrews bent forward and consulted Major Lane in an undertone; then came the brief order: "Clear the court." Warren and the judge advocate ushered Nancy into a small vacant room, while the spectators were bundled unceremoniously into the hall.
The fresh air in the hall was a relief after the stuffy atmosphere of the courtroom. Mrs. Warren and her two friends pushed their way to the end window, opened it, and leaned out, the better to cool their flushed faces.
"I fear, I greatly fear, Nancy is very deeply involved in this mysterious tragedy," murmured Mrs. Bennett, so that she would not be overheard by others in the crowd.
"It looks that way," agreed Mrs. Warren sadly. "Still, I firmly believe in her innocence. If the court refuses hearsay evidence, they cannot then prove that Nancy had a motive for killing Captain Lloyd."
"My husband declares that a military court is the fairest and most impartial tribunal in the world," pursued Mrs. Bennett. "Hark! What is that music?" A band, preceding its regiment, had wheeled into Fourteenth Street, some blocks below, and was marching toward them. The strains of music, at first faint, grew louder in volume. "It is—yes—it is 'Dixie'!"