ething to conceal. Wiley did not
cross-examine, knowing that the sooner the pathetic little figure left
the stand the better. But he managed to convey that it was his sympathy
with the sufferer that made him waive cross-examination.

The People's case rested.

Lydia was called. As she rose and walked behind the jury box toward the
waiting Bible she realized exactly why it was that O'Bannon had put Alma
on the stand the last of all his witnesses. It was to counteract with
tragedy any appeal that youth and wealth and beauty might make to the
emotions of the jury. Such a trick, it seemed to her, deserved a counter
trick, and reconciled her to falsehood, even as she was swearing that
her testimony would be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, so help her God.

Surely it was persecution for the law to stoop to such methods. She felt
as hard as steel. Women do not get fair play, she thought. Here she was,
wanting to fight like a tigress, and her only chance of winning was to
appear as gentle and innocuous as the dove. She testified that her name
was Lydia Janetta Thorne, her age twenty-four, her residence New York.

"Miss Thorne," said Wiley, very businesslike in manner, "for how many
years have you driven a car?"

"For eight years."

"As often as three or four times a week?"

"Much oftener--constantly--every day."

"Have you ever been arrested for speeding?"

"Only once--about seven years ago in New Jersey."

"Were you fined or imprisoned?"

"No, the case was dismissed."

"Have you ever, before March eleventh, had an accident in which you
injured yourself or anyone else?"

"No."

"Now tell the jury as nearly as you can remember just what took place
from the time you left your house on the morning of March eleventh until
the accident that afternoon."

Lydia turned to the jury--not dovelike, but with a modified beam of
candid friendliness that was very winning. She described her day. She
had left her house about half past eleven and had run down to Miss
Bellington's, a distance of thirty miles, in an hour and a half. She had
expected to spend the afternoon there, but finding that her friend had
an engagement she had left earlier than she expected. No, she had no
motive whatsoever for getting to town quickly. On the contrary, she had
extra time on her hands. No, she had not noticed the hour at which she
left Miss Bellington's, but it was soon after luncheon; about
twenty-five minutes before