Lightnin Part 22

Before he could go farther Raymond Thomas, upon whom the entire situation was reacting in swift, powerful threats to his cause, arose, his face drawn with the agony of frustration, his voice high pitched from the effort to subdue the feelings fast getting beyond his control.

"The defendant's whereabouts were unknown to us, your Honor, and the court allowed us to serve notice by publication."

"Publication in what?" Marvin demanded, as he darted contempt at Thomas.

Townsend answered him. "Proper service was given, if the defendant could not be located." To Bill he addressed the next question, "Is that what you asked about?"

Still confused, and not yet quite getting the trend of the whole matter, he asked, in his quiet, disinterested way, "Who, me?"

"Yes," replied the judge. "You made some remark after the complaint was read."

"I wasn't sure I'd got it straight," Bill said, looking ahead of him, mouth half open.

"You mean the grounds on which the action is based?" the judge persisted.

There was a pause, in which Bill looked first at Thomas, whose lids drooped under the old man's scrutiny, and then at his wife, who hung her head. "I guess so," he jerked, drumming his fingers softly on the table.

Townsend ordered the clerk to repeat that part of the complaint wherein the grounds for the suit were mentioned. The clerk repeated, "Failure to provide, habitual intoxication, and intolerable cruelty."

Bill listened attentively. As the clerk sat down, Bill looked up at the judge, asking, "Is that all?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIGHTNIN', IN HIS FADED G. A. R. UNIFORM ... LISTENED ATTENTIVELY]

"Don't you think it's enough?" There was admonition in his manner, but there was a certain gentleness in his voice and a smile of sympathy lurked at the corners of his mouth. It was difficult for Lemuel Townsend, who knew the lovable side of the careless old man, but he was determined to maintain the dignity and the integrity of the law, and he knew that he must remain unbiased, no matter how strong his feeling was that here there had been sad tampering with truth and the finer essences of happiness.

His severity did not touch Bill. His sense of humor, always close to the surface, a.s.serted itself. A gleam that was half derision, half amus.e.m.e.nt, lighted his eyes as he grinned up at the judge. "Sounded as if there was more the first time."

Marvin again stood before the judge. He knew that Bill had no one to defend him and he had not felt the necessity of offering himself. He just took it for granted that Bill would turn to him in the dilemma and so he took the case in his hands. "I am counsel for the defendant, your Honor," he said, "and he is entering a general denial."

"Are you counsel for the defense?" Townsend's astonishment was evident in his long-drawn inflection. He had not heard of Marvin's admission to the bar. Neither had he seen the young man about lately, and the whole situation puzzled him.

Before Marvin could answer him, Bill was out of his seat, replying for him, "Yes, sir, he is my lawyer."

It was not the judge's way to admit himself baffled. Turning to Thomas, he instructed him to call his witnesses.

Marvin took a seat in front of Bill at the attorneys' table, while Bill on the edge of his chair leaned forward expectantly, his eyes fastened not on Thomas, but upon his wife, who sat with her head bowed and her eyes staring into her lap.

Thomas beckoned to Mrs. Jones, calling her name.

As she arose, Hammond, who sat next to Thomas on the other side of the table from Marvin and Bill, and who had appeared indifferent and bored so far in the proceedings, jumped to his feet, dismay written on every feature, and hastened to whisper in his partner's ear: "Are you crazy?

The most dangerous thing you can do, now that old Jones is in court, is to call her to the stand."

Thomas in his vaunted shrewdness had overlooked this possibility, but now that Hammond mentioned it to him he saw what disastrous complications Mrs. Jones's presence on the witness-stand might lead to.

Nodding in answer to Hammond's counsel, he again turned to Mrs. Jones, saying, "I don't think it will be necessary for you to testify at all, Mrs. Jones." As she sat down, he smiled at Millie, addressing her, "Miss Buckley, will you take the stand, please?"

Millie had not expected to be called, and as she arose at his summons her face flushed with embarra.s.sment. She stood still momentarily and her eyes met Marvin's for the first time since he had appeared in court.

With an angry flash they quickly sought the witness-chair, and, although trembling at the ordeal before her, she made an effort to trip lightly to the stand. As she took her place and was sworn in by the clerk her replies were scarcely audible. Casting frightened glances up through her long lashes at Thomas, she was rea.s.sured by a smile. After the preliminary examination as to her adoption by Bill and Mrs. Jones and her residence with them since she was three years old, he began upon the intimate questions which he hoped would weave a web of incriminating evidence against Bill, evidence which would redound to his justification in the part he had played in bringing about the divorce.

"Miss Buckley," he asked, pulling nervously at his cuffs and bringing them down two or three inches below his sleeves, "Mrs. Jones has toiled early and late to provide for the family ever since you can remember, has she not?"

Millie nodded, gazing anxiously at Bill, who, far forward on his chair, was drinking in every word she said. There was a pitiful accusation behind the sadness in the eyes with which he returned her gaze.

As Thomas continued she, like her mother, concentrated her attention on her hands folded tight in her lap.

"Why did you leave home three years ago, Miss Buckley?"

"To earn my living, of course," was the reply, in low, reluctant tones.

"What did you do with your wages?"

Millie hesitated. After taking out barely enough to live on in meager fas.h.i.+on she had sent most of the remainder home, not because either Mrs.

Jones or Bill had asked for help, but because she knew how difficult was their living during the long winter months when their only source of income was Bill's pension and the few mountain people who dropped in when pa.s.sing back and forth and remain overnight and for a meal or so.

Had she known that she was to be called as a witness she might even have refused to accompany Mrs. Jones to court, for Bill's derelictions could never outweigh the knowledge that it was he who had saved her from an orphanage. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but even this did not keep back her tears at the thought that her answer might be the betrayal of the old man who had been a father to her through all the years.

Thomas saw her disinclination and understood the condition of mind which prompted it. He knew he must call his persuasive powers to his aid, so he went very close to the witness-stand, and, leaning over her, spoke in his softest tones.

"I am sorry to have to ask these questions, Miss Buckley, because I know how you dread to testify in this case, but it is unavoidable. Will you answer my question? You sent the greater part of your wages home, did you not?" He spoke as if he, too, were distressed.

Millie, falling into the trap, sighed, "Yes, sir."

"And you really left home to earn money in order to help support the Jones family, didn't you?"

Again, overcome by the complications of the situation in which she found herself, she was unable to answer except with a reluctant nod.

"Did you ever see Mrs. Jones's husband drunk?"

As Thomas asked this question he looked toward Bill. Millie did not answer. The tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them away, burying her face in the handkerchief she held in one of her hands.

Thomas insisted. "You have seen him in that condition hundreds of times, have you not?"

There was a malicious note in his voice this time, as well as in the look he directed at the old man at the table.

Millie caught it, and a slight antagonism crept into her voice as she straightened in her chair, answering, in surprise, "Why, I never counted."

Thomas was deriving a long-desired satisfaction in his prodding of Bill, and it threatened his shrewder self-control. "But he was in the habit of coming home drunk, wasn't he?" There was real glee in the question, but it escaped Millie this time. With a beseeching glance at Thomas, and one which pleaded for forgiveness toward Bill, she said, slowly, "Sometimes."

"And because of the poverty brought about by those bad habits you were obliged to leave--"

Here Millie broke in. Forgetting her embarra.s.sment and the crowded court-room in the realization that words were being put into her mouth, words which fell far short of the truth, she burst out, indignantly: "Why, I never said any such thing! I went away to work because there was no opportunity in Calivada to earn any money, and I thought as long as I was going at all I might just as well go to San Francisco where I could make a salary large enough to take care of myself and to help Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who have been very good to me."

Thomas saw that he had overstepped himself and he groped in his mind for new questions, until a scowl from Hammond reminded him that it might be better to stop rather than to bring out evidence which might turn against them and in favor of Bill. So he dismissed Millie from the stand.

She stood up while Thomas took his place next to Hammond at the table.

But Marvin, after a few whispered words with Bill, took Thomas's place by the witness-chair, holding up a detaining hand and calling, "Miss Buckley!"

Millie glared at him, blushed deeply, and walked off the stand. She had not been able to forgive him for his advice to Bill and still held him responsible for Bill's leaving home, as she had felt that if Bill had not been prejudiced against Thomas and Hammond the place would have been sold and they would have all been living together in comfort.

But she did not get very far. As she left the platform Townsend motioned her to return and, submerging his personal friends.h.i.+p for her beneath his judicial duties he exclaimed, severely:

"One moment, Miss Buckley. The counsel for the defense has asked you a question."