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Updated: June 19, 2025
This last remark was addressed to the defendant's attorney. "I have no questions to ask," said Goodlaw, "I have no doubt the witness tells the truth." "That's all," said Sharpman, quickly; then, turning again toward the court-room, he called: "William Buckley!" Bachelor Billy arose from among the crowds on the front benches, and made his way awkwardly around the aisle and up to the witness-stand.
"Counsel has a right to call the boy as a witness," said the judge, dispassionately, "and to put him on the stand at once. Let him be sworn." Ralph pushed his way up to the witness-stand, and the officer administered the oath. He was a sorry-looking witness indeed. At any other time or in any other place, his appearance would have been ludicrous. But now no one laughed.
Any observer who should have seen the neatly-dressed lawyer peering into the broken doors and up the black staircases of Thomas Street, would naturally have supposed his visit connected with some revelation of crime, and that he was either looking up a witness whose testimony might be necessary to save a perilled burglar from Sing Sing, or taking measures to keep one hidden who might have told too much if brought upon the witness-stand.
"Well, yes, one." Elsa leaned forward eagerly. "Who, Betty?" "You don't know him." "But what's his name?" Betty hesitated. "Well, if I am on the witness-stand Maude." "Maude? I thought you said a man?" "It's his name. John Maude." "But, Betty! Why didn't you tell me before? This is tremendously interesting." Betty laughed shortly. "Not so very, really.
The lady arose and went again to the witness-stand. Craft was busy with his leather hand-bag. He had taken a parcel therefrom, unwrapped it and laid it on the table. It was the cloak that Old Simon had shown to Robert Burnham on the day of the mine disaster. Sharpman took it up, shook it out, carried it to Mrs. Burnham, and placed it in her hands. "Do you recognize this cloak?" he asked.
"After he took the witness-stand and had qualified himself as an expert in handwriting, the note in suit was handed him, and he was requested to state whether or not in his opinion the signature was genuine. It was some minutes before he responded. During the latter portion of the time of his silence his mind seemed intent upon something else.
One by one, smirking sheepishly, but giving out their evidence with unshaken earnestness, eleven greasy, wandering-eyed youths mounted the witness-stand and affirmed on oath that at the time mentioned dear old Jack had been making merry in their company in a genial and law-abiding fashion, many, many blocks below the scene of the regrettable assault.
An aged, gray-haired and very wrinkled old woman, arrayed in the outlandish calico costume of the mountains, was summoned as a witness in court to tell what she knew about a fight in her house. She took the witness-stand with evidences of backwardness and proverbial Bourbon verdancy. The Judge asked her in a kindly voice what took place.
Sharpman arose and began pacing up and down the room. He was inclined to yield to the man's demand. The Burnham suit was drawing rapidly to a successful close. If this fellow should go on the witness-stand and tell his plausible story, the entire scheme might be wrecked beyond retrieval. But it was very annoying to be bulldozed into a thing in this way.
"But of course we detectives have to ask questions. By the way, where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow roses?" "See here," said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, "I don't want to be questioned. I'm not on the witness-stand, and, as I've told you, I'm uncomfortable already about these so-called `clues' that seem to implicate Miss Lloyd. So, if you please, I'll say nothing."
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