farthest from
the bench, and let in more light.

People did not know just what was coming next, but the atmosphere of the
room was charged with a foreboding of something big. No man would risk
missing it by leaving, although rain was threatening, and long drives
over dark roads lay ahead of many of the anxious listeners.

Hammer was in consultation with Joe and his mother. He seemed to be
protesting and arguing, with a mighty spreading of the hands and shaking
of the head. The judge was writing busily, making notes on his charge to
the jury, it was supposed.

The prosecuting attorney took advantage of the momentary lull to get up
and stretch his legs, which he did literally, one after the other,
shaking his shanks to send down his crumpled pantaloons. He went to the
window with lounging stride, hands in pockets, and pushed the sash a
foot higher. There he stood, looking out into the mists which hung gray
in the maple trees.

The jurymen, tired and unshaved, and over the momentary thrill of
Ollie's disclosure, lolled and sprawled in the box. It seemed that they
now accepted the thing as settled, and the prospect of further waiting
was boresome. The people set up a little whisper of talk, a clearing of
throats, a blowing of noses, a shifting of feet, a general preparation
and readjustment for settling down again to absorb all that might fall.

The country folk seated in the vicinity of Alice Price, among whom her
fame had traveled far, whom many of their sons had loved, and languished
for, and gone off to run streetcars on her account, turned their freed
attention upon her, nudging, gazing, gossiping.

"Purty as a picture, ain't she?"

"Oh, I don't know. You set her 'longside of Bessie Craver over at Pink
Hill"--and so on.

The judge looked up from his paper suddenly, as if the growing sound
within the room had startled him out of his thought. His face wore a
fleeting expression of surprise. He looked at the prosecutor, at the
little group in conference at the end of the table below him, as if he
did not understand. Then his judicial poise returned. He tapped with his
pen on the inkstand.

"Gentlemen, proceed with the case," said he.

The prosecuting attorney turned from the window with alacrity, and
Hammer, sweating and shaking his head in one last gesture of protest to
his client--who leaned back and folded his arms, with set and stubborn
face--rose ponderously. He wiped his forehead with his great, broad
h