The impugnment of Eli’s motives was evident to all.
“’Xcuse me, Mr. Speaker,” said George Washington, rising with his hand in his bosom; “as de question is befo’ us, I wish to say that de las’ bro’ mus’ have spoken under ’xcitement. Every man don’ have his price! An’ I hope de bro’ will recant—like as de Psalmist goes out o’ his way to say ‘In my haste I said, All men are liars.’ He was a very busy man, de Psalmist—writin’ down hymns all day, sharpen’n’ his lead-pencil, bossin’ ’roun’ de choir—callin’ Selah! Well, bro’n an’ sisters”—both arms going out, and his voice going up—“one day, seems like, he was in gre’t haste—got to finish a psalm for a monthly concert, or such—and some man incorrupted him, and lied; and bein’ in gre’t haste—and a little old Adam in him—he says, right off, quick: ‘All men are liars!’ But see—when he gets a little time to set back and meditate, he says: ‘Dis won’ do—dere’s Moses, an’ Job, an’ Paul—dey ain’t liars!’ An’ den he don’ sneak out, and ’low he said, ‘All men is lions,’ or such. No! de Psalmist ain’t no such man; but he owns up, an’ ’xplains: ‘In my haste,’ he says, ‘I said it.’”
The foreman rose and rapped.
“I await a motion,” said he, “if our friend will allow me the privilege of speaking.”
Mr. Washington calmly bowed.
Then the foreman, when nobody seemed disposed to move, speaking slowly, at first, and piece-meal, alternating language with smoke, gradually edged into the current of the evidence, and ended by going all over it again, with fresh force and point. His cigar glowed and chilled in the darkening room as he talked.
“Now,” he said, when he had drawn all the threads together to the point of guilt, “what are we going to do upon this evidence?”
“I’ll tell you something,” said Eli. “I didn’t want to say it because I know what you’ll all think, but I’ll tell you, all the same.”
“Ah!” said the foreman.
Eli stood up and faced the others.