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Show By BED nmES EOILLlOiili C Ben Ames Williama. 11 CHAPTER IX Continued 21 Falkran cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "Mr. Sentry stood the cross-examination surprisingly well." And as Dan Fisher moved, the lawyer insisted, smiling: "Of course, for our friends the reporters this was the high spot of the trial, and they made the most of it. But as Mr. Sentry's counsel, I was proud of him." Mrs. Sentry nodded without speaking. speak-ing. Falkran challenged Dan, "Wasn't that your impression as a friend of the family?" Dan started to answer honestly, but he caught Phil's eye with en-. en-. treaty in it, and said only: "I was too busy taking notes to think of that side of it. Our job is to report re-port the case, not to decide it." He added guardedly, "But I thought Mr. Weldon shook him once or twice." Falkran said: "I'm glad to have your opinion. Weldon is of course a skillful cross-examiner, makes every ev-ery possible effect. It is conceivable conceiv-able that some of the jurors may still be undecided; but Mrs. Sentry's timony tomorrow will turn the w?Ies our way." Dan protested, "I don't think you should call her." "I know," Falkran agreed. "You and all her friends have a natural desire to spare her. That is to be expected. And believe me, Dan, I do not insist. But Mrs. Sentry understands un-derstands that an acquittal may depend de-pend upon her testimony; and of course she wishes to do whatever she can for her husband, no matter what the cost to herself." Mrs. Sentry watched them both, her face expressionless, saying nothing. noth-ing. Phil came to sit on the arm of her chair, his eyes holding Dan's, dreading what Dan might say. Dan said, "You claim her testimony testi-mony may acquit him?" "I have promised her it will." "What can she say that will help?" Falkran hesitated. "Well, Dan," he answered at last, "you heard Mr. Sentry's testimony this afternoon. You understand that the only motive mo-tive the State can suggest was Mr. Sentry's fear of his wife's attitude. But if Mrs. Sentry testifies that he had no cause to be afraid of her, and that he knew it, then that motive mo-tive disappears." There was a silence that extended .for long minutes. Dan watched Mrs. Sentry. She sat with her head a little lit-tle bent. And she looked at them, at Dan and then at Falkran. Dan stared in quick surprise. There was something some-thing in her eyes he could not read; something like serenity. "So I must decide," she said quietly. Then to Falkran: "You wish me to testify?" "Yes." Her eyes held his for a moment. Then she said, half smiling, looking up at Phil, "Son, a curious thing has happened to me." The room was very still. "Phil, I have suddenly fallen in love with your father. He's so alone, so helpless. I - aJJiust help him." She met Falkran's ..es; she said: "I want to do every-ihing every-ihing I can. Ask me whatever you wish!" He came leaping to his feet, smiled that great blustering smile of his. "Splendid!" he exclaimed. "I counted on you, counted on your strength and courage. Be easy, Mrs. Sentry. Your testimony will set your husband free." She rose to face him; but, on her feet, weakness swept her. She leaned on Phil, said to them all: "Forgive me. I am tired. Phil, will you take me upstairs?" In the morning Falkran did call Mrs. Sentry to the stand. At her name, she rose and walked steadily to the witness box. She was sworn, and Falkran approached her. He asked simply, "You are Mrs. Arthur Sentry?" "I am." "The wife of the defendant?" "I am." Falkran turned, he bowed to the District Attorney, he said, "You may inquire." And the District Attorney said instantly, in-stantly, "No questions." Falkran smiled triumphantly; but Mrs. Sentry stood dazed and incredulous. incred-ulous. Strong for the ordeal she had expected, this deliverance drained i all her strength away. Falkran came to lead her to her seat again. Through the remaining days of the trial, she listened inattentively, even when Mr. Loran, during the State's rebuttal, took the stand. His testimony testi-mony was brief. He denied any personal relations with Miss Wines; said he never saw her after her work in the office was ended. He testified testi-fied that on those days in August when she was out of town, he was fishing in the Maine woods; and he testified that on the night she was killed he went to New York on the -i 12:30 a. m. train, boarding it at 3 about eleven, and going to bed at once in his compartment. His guide in Maine, and the Pullman porter, corroborated his testimony. The trial sped; the arguments be gan. At half-past three on Thursday Thurs-day afternoon, the jury retired. To wait for the verdict, Mrs. Sentry Sen-try and Phil went to a hotel, took a room. At five, and at seven, Falkran Falk-ran telephoned; and at a quarter of ten, he phoned again to assert that the jury stood ten to two for acquittal. acquit-tal. At eleven, he came himself to say that the jury, still unable to agree, had been locked up for the night. "So there will be no verdict till morning," he said. "A verdict in less than first degree, or a disagreement, disagree-ment, is possible; but I expect acquittal. ac-quittal. I will give odds that to morrow night Mr. Sentry will sleep in his own bed! You can go home and rest easy." Mrs. Sentry and Dan went down in the elevator, out to where old Eli waited with the limousine, and so came home. CHAPTER X Mrs. Sentry woke next morning wearily, from sleep that had brought no repose. While she -dressed, she thought: I must hurry, hurry. Perhaps already the jury has decided. I must hurry, hurry to be there. Her breath was short; it was a conscious effort to fill her "But I shall lie down for a little while. I'd rather be alone just now. You might go sit with Barbara" He nodded, assenting; and they parted in the upper hali When he came into Barbara's room, she turned her head on the pillow to look at him, and he thought how thin she was, her eyes lucent, her lips pale; and he thought, almost grateful grate-ful for this task to do: Barbara needs me. We've left her too much alone. I must be with her now. And he sat down on her bedside and held her thin fingers tight in his, and felt them cling and tug. She croaked something, some question; ques-tion; and he said: "Yes, Barb, old girl. And now we've got to help mother, take care of her. That's our job, yours and mine." She muttered: "Yes; mother." This was one of those days when she could manage half-formed syllables, sylla-bles, could make herself intelligible in brief phrases. Then after a moment mo-ment she said, in a sudden passion, her voice a husky croak: "But he didn't do it, Phil!" Phil nodded automatically, more to content and quiet her than in assent. He stayed a long time with Barbara; Bar-bara; and she lay watching him, III k..v 11 mom P: r 'iisiiilS She Swayed Toward Him, and He Held Her Close. lungs; and within her body there seemed to be a crawling, writhing knot, as though her nerves were in actual physical motion like the tentacles ten-tacles of an octopus. She came downstairs bravely; but while they were at breakfast Dan telephoned to urge them not to come to court. "It can't possibly do any good now, you know," he reminded Phil. "The thing is settled, one way or the other." Phil, returning to the table, repeated re-peated this advice. Mrs. Sentry cried instantly: "No, Phil! No. I must be there, must do everything I can." "Being there can't do any good, mother," he reminded her. "When the jury does come into court again, they will have decided. The sight of you can't change them." She looked at Phil acutely. "That means you think they will convict him? Find him guilty?" "Gosh, no!" "But Phil, if there's any least chance of his acquittal, I must be there. There to take him in my arms." She colored like a girl. He put his arm around her. "I'll be there," he promised. "To bring him home. If he can come. If he cannot then for you to be there would just break you down." And to be miserly with your strength, mother. Keep it to spend when it will do real good." It may have been two hours before be-fore he came home. Mrs. Sentry had waited in a surface calm, consulting con-sulting with cook about meals before be-fore she went upstairs to sit with Barbara. When she heard the car, she descended, slowly, holding to the stair-rail, walking carefully. Each step was a voluntary action that required to be planned and with the utmost caution carried through. She met Phil in the front hall, so that his back was to the light and she could not see his face clearly. Nevertheless she saw that he was alone. So no word from him was necessary. She swayed toward him, and he held her close. He said in a low tone, evading the direct statement: "Mr. Falkran wants to see you, to discuss the appeal. ap-peal. I told him to wait, to come in a day or two." So she knew; and after a moment she shivered suddenly, as a sleeping ; dog shivers to keep warm, and she ; felt him stiffen into a frozen rigidity rigidi-ty and knew he was afraid for her; so she freed herself, and smiled to I reassure him. "I'm all right, son," she said. holding fast to his hand, her eyes flowing tears, as though tears were balm. He was still with her when Doctor Mainton came; and the doctor doc-tor talked quietly to her for a while, and almost cheerfully. "You've had a long siege, Barbara," Barba-ra," he said. "But now you've turned the corner. You're going to be better right along. Be yourself again soon, won't you?" Phil went downstairs with the older old-er man, and he asked, "Is she as sick as she looks, Doctor?" The other said gently, "She was worse yesterday morning than she had been at any time; but she's better today." And he asked simply, sim-ply, "Did you tell her your father was convicted?" Phil said, "Yes." And he said: "A strange thing it seemed to make her feel better, to reassure her. But she believes he is innocent, inno-cent, of course." "Fine!" Doctor Mainton agreed. "You stay with her, Phil; and if she shows any inclination to talk, encourage her. Miss Dane has been much with her, hasn't she? And you and your sister are pretty close to one another?" "Yes, sir." "Try the clock, this afternocfh; and one of you stay with her. If she tries to talk, answer her; get her to confide in you. I could come myself; but she has been afraid of me, afraid of being cured. It had better be one of you, whom she trusts." "You think she'll be all right?" "Try," the doctor repeated, and drove away. Phil did not at once return indoors. in-doors. He stood under the porte cochere for a moment, thinking of Barbara; and then he realized that even without an overcoat, he was comfortably warm. The sun shone, there was no wind, and the air had promise in it. He walked at random down the drive to the street, noticing without emotion how the shrubbery was broken where curious curi-ous children or adults like ghouls had broken off souvenirs; and old Eli had neatly clipped the ragged ends and touched them with paint to protect them against decay. Here and there he saw buds swelling; and returning by the other side of the drive he noticed in a sunny corner cor-ner crocuses just bursting through the sod. March was well begun. Four months till July. In less than four months, the week of July 1 would have come and gone. The week of July 1! The Judge's phrase slid like a snake through the dulled channels of his mind. He walked out toward the garage, of which the doors stood open, and saw the cars there. The old limousine limou-sine which was Eli's pet and pride. The depot wagon which he and Barbara Bar-bara were apt to use. The roadster road-ster which his father had driven that night. The limousine and the roadster road-ster had low number plates, three digits in the one, four in the other; one of the mild forms of ostentation ostenta-tion in which he knew his mother took a secret pride. He went in to look at the roadster; road-ster; and he stared at it with a rooted root-ed physical distaste. He made a sudden decision to be rid of it. Eli came in from the garden, and Phil started to speak to him and then remembered that he would have to shout, because Eli was deaf; and if he shouted, his mother, even in the house, might hear. Instead, he took an envelope from his pocket and wrote on it orders for the old man to drive the roadster into the country, find a dealer somewhere who would buy it at any price, then surrender the number plates, give them up for good and all. He realized real-ized as he wrote that the plates had been renewed since his father lasl drove the car; but the number was the same, had been the same each year since before he himself was born. Get rid of them! Eli read the instructions, and he nodded his assent, silent as always. Phil took the registration, endorsed the report of transfer of ownership in blank, scribbled a note giving Eh authority to sell the car. He brushed his hands together in a deep reliei and turned away, and it did not oc-cur oc-cur to him till years afterward, looking look-ing backward on these months, thai the moment was a milestone. It was the first time in his life that he had ever made a concrete decision de-cision involving definite action or an adult plane and carried the action ac-tion through. He thought in latei years that his own maturity dated from that moment when, almosi without consideration, he assumed the headship of the family. He left Eli and went out past the tennis court, littered with last year's dead leaves, the remains of a drifi of snow still persisting in one cor ner; and he stood in the little sum merhouse above the muddy strearr on which stained and rotten ice stili persisted, and looked down where his father that night had thrown the gun. (TO BE COyTlMUED) |