Then mouths and eyes were opened with curiosity. The spectators seemed to hold their breath lest they should lose the name of the unexpected witness, or as if the only chance for Comston had wings, and might be frightened away by heavy respiration. Comston and Clara looked up, leaned forward, and subjected Greenlee’s tranquil face to a quick, close search.
“Call your witness,” said the Court.
“Let Rev. Mr. Edgefield be sworn,” said Greenlee mildly and quietly.
Ernest rose from his chair, and deliberately stepped to the Clerk’s desk, where he was sworn, and then placed himself in the witness’ seat. It was one of those strange, unexpected scenes, which sometimes occur in gloomy court-rooms, and which change the entire aspect of the case. Clara now understood that smile on the preacher’s face. Ernest knew all about it, she thought. And who, but God, had sent him? She was awe-struck by the thought, and felt as one who had just witnessed, or rather was about to witness, a miracle. Comston had similar feelings. Both could have cast themselves upon the floor, and kissed the witness’ feet. What a friend he was! How good, and kind, and merciful was God, in raising up such a noble witness at the moment when it seemed that hope was about to wing a returnless flight! How both their hearts were melted to tenderness toward their Creator! for it was the firm conviction of both that God had sent His own messenger to see justice done. Ernest had not spoken a word, but they felt that his testimony, whatever it was, would be conclusive.
“Tell what you know about this case,” said Mr. Greenlee.
Ernest spoke in a firm, emphatic tone, that carried conviction to every heart:
“On the morning of the —— day, of ——, I rose earlier than usual. The day before I had remained with Comston, and kept him away from the saloon. He had promised to reform. But, I confess, I had little hope of any reformation, if he was left alone, and I determined to watch him another day; and this accounts for my early rising on that particular morning. I started toward the saloon, and when I had nearly reached there, I saw Comston coming out of his gate. I then concealed myself in the rear of the saloon, waiting for Comston to come, intending to persuade him to return home. When I had hidden myself, I heard two men quarreling inside, both of whose voices I instantly recognized. Presently, I heard Jones exclaim:
“‘I won’t stand it any longer.’
“Then I heard a rush over the floor. There was a scuffle for only a few seconds, and I heard Jones cry out:
“‘You have stabbed me—, you have killed me!’