“Nor, suh; it done fall down two or three times since den. Hit fall de day marster wuz kilt, an’ hit fall de evenin’ Mr. Still dyah got de papers out de hole agin. Dat’s de evenin’ Mr. Leech dyah ’rest Marse Jack. Mr. Leech know ’bout dat.”
Suddenly a voice rang through the court-room.
“It’s a lie! It’s all a d—d lie!” It was Hiram Still, and he had sprung to his feet in uncontrollable agitation, his face livid. Every eye was turned on him, and Leech caught him and pulled him down forcibly into his seat, rising in his place and addressing the Court.
“If your honor please,” he said, “all of this is irrelevant. I have no idea what it is all about; but it has no bearing whatever on this case: a lot of stuff about a picture falling down. I shall ask you to exclude it all from the jury——”
“But I will show whether or not it is relevant,” asserted Steve. He had picked up the bond from the bar and held it firmly. His voice had a new ring in it.
Leech turned on him angrily, but caught his eye and quieted down. He addressed the Court again.
“I will show how impossible it is for it to be accepted. Can you read or write?” he demanded of Doan, who stood much puzzled by what was going on.
“Nor, suh.”
“And you cannot tell one paper from another, can you?”
“Nor, suh. But ef de paper Mr. Still got out from behine de picture dat evenin’ I see him git up in de hole after you brung Marse Jack away, is de one I see him gi’ marster an’ see him put in dyah, hit’s got Marse Rupert’s foot-track ’pon it—least his toe-tracks—whar he’d been dabblin’ in de fresh paint on de hearth; cuz dat’s de reason marster meek me cyar him out, cuz he step ’pon de barn whar blown down on de hall-flo’ wid red paint, an’ track up de flo’ runnin’ after it.” (Here Steve, with a bow, handed the bond across to Major Welch.) “I see marster when he put de paper in de bundle an’ Mr. Still put it up in de hole behine de picture, an’ I see Mr. Still when he git up in de hole an’ teck it out de evenin’ de picture fall down after mistis an’ all de white folks come ’way to de cote-house after Marse Jack. Ef it’s de same barn hit’s got he toe-marks on hit in red paint, cuz I can show you de tracks on de hall flo’ now. Hit’s dim, but hit’s dyah on de flo’ still. Ef you go dyah wid me I can show’t to you.”