Howell was protesting against such a suggestion, when he was interrupted by a roar from one of the learned brethren who had been impatiently waiting his turn.
"I speak for the murdered girls," he cried, "whose pure young blood stains the hands of that guilty monster, and in the name of their bleeding corpses and young lives, ruthlessly done to death, I utter my protest against the imputation of innocence to their slayer."
The auditors, who had begun to drowse over the technical details of the case, were stirred to attention at once by this declamatory opening. Even Saul Aronson, sleepy from his restless night, checked a yawn midway with his fingers and turned around. The new speaker was a middle-sized, burly man, whose most conspicuous feature was a projection of the flesh beneath the outer corners of his eyebrows, so as to bury the eyes and give his whole face an expression almost Mongolian in its cunning. His clothes were seedy, and his remarks punctuated by amber-colored shots at the cuspidor. Altogether it was a decidedly rakish craft and the look on Judge Dunder's face was by no means propitious.
"It is an axiom of law," said the orator, waving his hand and executing a demi-volt toward the spectators, "that no man can take advantage of his own tort. I hereby accuse Robert Floyd of the murder of my clients——"
"Who are your clients?" interrupted the judge.
"Mary and Florence Lacy, two virtuous maidens, the sunshine of a happy home, the pride of a loving and admiring circle of friends"—just here came one of the orator's punctuation points, which produced a sadly antithetical effect—"the comforts of a bereaved mother's heart——"
An old lady in the audience burst into tears. Presumably it was Mrs. Lacy. This tribute to his eloquence warmed the orator to a mighty outburst.
"Woe, I say, to that ruthless hand! Perdition gripe that marble heart——"
"Will you kindly make your statements relevant?" The judge's manner was arctic. "We are considering the disposition of Benjamin Arnold's estate."
"I beg to interpose." Hodgkins had seen a ray of hope in the utterances of the last two speakers. Slack, the grandiloquent, was a bibulous shyster, who made a precarious livelihood by imposing on just such victims as Mrs. Lacy, but at this juncture he might prove a useful ally. "Brother Slack is not unnaturally, I may say most creditably, carried away by his feelings on behalf of his clients; and I, for one, heartily join him in opposing the efforts which have been made here today to put the means of redress for those—er—unhappy victims beyond their reach—or, rather, to reduce them to a paltry $20,000."