The City of Fire - Page 191/221

Cherry had come back late after lunch, her hat awry and signs of tears

on her painted face. Her eyes were more obviously frightened and she

whispered a message which was taken up to Mark. Mark lifted a haggard

face to hear it, asked a question, bowed his head, and continued

listening to the cross-examination of a man who said he had heard him

threaten to kill Dolph the week before the murder down at Hagg's Mills.

When the witness was dismissed Mark whispered a word to his lawyer, the

lawyer spoke to the judge and the judge announced that the prisoner

wished to speak. Every eye was turned toward Mark as he rose and gave a

sweeping glance around the room, his eyes lingering for just a shadow

of an instant wistfully on the faces of the minister and his wife, then

on again as if they had seen no one, and round to the judge's face.

It was just at this instant that Billy burst into the room and wedged

his way fiercely between elbows, using his old football methods, head

down and elbows out, and stood a moment breathless, taking it all in.

Then Mark spoke: "Your Honor, I wish to plead guilty to the charge!"

A great sigh like a sob broke over the hush in the court room and many

people half rose to their feet as if in protest, but Billy made a dive

up the aisle, self and sickness forgotten, regardless of courts or law

or anything, and stood between the Judge and Mark: "It ain't so, an' I can prove it!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The prosecuting attorney rose to a point of order like a bull dog

snapping at his prey, the sergeant-at-arms rushed around like corn

popping off in a corn popper, but Anthony Drew whispered a word to the

Judge, and after order was restored Billy was called to the witness

stand to tell his story.

Doctor Norris standing squeezed at the back of the room looking for his

quondam patient, recognized with a thrill the new Billy standing

unafraid before all these people and speaking out his story in a clear

direct way. Billy had etherealized during his illness. If Aunt Saxon

had been there--she was washing for Gibsons that day and having her

troubles with Mrs. Frost--she would scarcely have known him. His

features had grown delicate and there was something strong and sweet

about his mouth that surely never had been there before. But the same

old forceful boy speech wherewith he had subdued enemies on the

athletic fields, bullied Aunt Saxon, and put one over on Pat at the

station, was still his own. He told the truth briefly and to the point,

not omitting his own wrong doing in every particular, and he swayed

that crowd as a great orator might have been proud to sway a

congregation. They laughed till they cried and cried till they laughed

again at Billy's quaint phrases, and they enjoyed the detour--Oh how

they enjoyed that detour! Even the Judge had twinkles in his eyes.