"Mr. Harricutt, I have often wondered if you knew all that
people say about you?"
"WHAT?"
There was sudden stir in the session room. The elders moved their
chairs with a swishing sound, cleared their throats hastily, and put
sudden hands up to hide furtive smiles. Elder Duncannon grinned
broadly, there was a twinkle in even the minister's eyes, and outside
the door Billy manfully stifled a snicker. Elder Harricutt shot his
angry little eyes around in the mirthful atmosphere, starting at Mark's
quizzical smile, and going around the uneasy group of men, back to Mark
again. But the smile was gone! One could hardly be sure it had been
there at all. Mark was hard cold steel again, a blank wall,
impenetrable. There was no sign that the young man intended to repeat
the mocking offense.
"Young man! This is no time for levity!" he roared forth menacingly.
"You are on the verge of being arrested for murder. Did you know it?"
The minister watching, thought he saw a quiver go through the steady
eyes, a slight contracting of the pupil, a hardening of the sensitive
mouth, that was all. The boy stood unflinching, and spoke with steady
lips: "I did not."
"Well, you are!" reiterated the elder, "And even if the man doesn't
die, there is plenty else. Answer me this question. It's no use beating
around the bush. Where were you at three o'clock this morning?"
The answer came without hesitation, steadily, frankly: "On Stark's Mountain, as nearly as I can make out."
Billy held his breath and wondered what was coming next. He caught his
hands on the window ledge and chinned himself again, his eyes and the
fringe of his dishevelled brown hair appearing above the window sill,
but the startled session was not looking out the window just then. Mr.
Harricutt looked slightly put out. Stark's Mountain had nothing to do
with this matter, and the young man was probably trying to prove an
alibi. He sat up jerkily and placed his elbows on the chair arms,
touching the tips of his long bony fingers, fitting them together
carefully and speaking in aggravated detached syllables in rhythm with
the movement of his fingers.
"Young--man! An--swer me!--Ware--you--or ware you--not--
at--the--Blue--Duck--Tavern--last--evening?"
Blue and red lights seemed to flicker in the cold steel eyes of the
young man.
"I was!"
"A--hemmm!" The elder glanced around triumphantly, and went on with the
examination: "Well,--young man!--Ware you--or--ware you not--
accompanied--by a young wumman--of--notorious--I may say--infamous
character? In other words--a young girl--commonly called--Cherry?
Cherry Fenner I believe is her whole name. Ware you with her?"