With almost boyish embarrassment, his eye sought that of the presiding judge; next he scanned the faces of the jury, and then, turning to the witness, in a voice at once gentle, sarcastic, and magnetic, he began:
"Mr. Slade, I will trouble you to look once more very carefully at the prisoner. Perhaps she will rise that you may see her better. You have testified that shortly before eight on the night of the murder you saw this woman enter the apartment house of which you are the janitor, and in which the body of Charlotte Ames was found. Now, I would like to have you tell the jury just what it was in the appearance of the woman you say you then saw that enables you to swear to-day that she and the prisoner are one and the same person."
The witness, fearing a trap, hesitated, and nervously eyed the lawyer.
"I would like you to tell us," calmly continued the questioner, "whether you took such particular notice of her height, her face, her complexion, her hair, her nose, and her teeth during the few moments that you say you saw her in the dimly lighted hallway, four months ago, as to enable you to swear to-day that you cannot be mistaken. Was it her size, her apparent age, perhaps, or the color of her hair, or what?"
"It was her looks," answered the witness, squirming in his seat. "It's the same woman."
"Yes, her looks; but I must trouble you to answer my question so that the jury may have the whole truth before they are asked to send any one to the gallows. Remember, Mr. Slade, you are under oath. Now tell us, what was it?"
"We object," came from the prosecuting attorney as he sprang to his feet. "We object, your honor, to this attempt to intimidate the witness."
Before the court could pass upon the objection, the witness, turning from his questioner to the court, exclaimed half defiantly:
"It was her eyes, your honor!"
"That is all," came from the lawyer for the defense, as he resumed his seat; and the spectators relaxed into a condition of restlessness that clearly showed their further disappointment.