"Well--I guess not. Of course I'm very much surprised that the defense
should see fit to make a charge like that against me, but there seems to
be no way of proving anything--Miss Blake's word against mine--and if I
say anything about--about her own conduct in that respect, it's the same
situation, so I would rather ignore it, let it go."
Warner sickened inwardly with self-blame. _I underestimated the brains
in the son of a bitch_--no, hardly even that, for a cub lawyer should
have seen it coming, the obvious countercharge by innuendo. Rankin had
done it cleverly, though; he could hardly have said anything better
calculated to make Callista seem a whore. _I should sell apples on a
streetcorner._
A sober workman driving in finishing nails, T. J. Hunter said: "I
understand your reluctance, Sergeant, and I think we might as well leave
it at that. Recross, Mr. Warner?"
Cecil Warner remembered how, long ago, on childhood occasions when he
had been goaded into fighting, he had often been struck by a crying
spell in the midst of battle. It had become a sort of distinction:
"_Cecil's all right till he goes to bawling--then watch out!_" It would
not happen now. But he knew his voice was shouting, too loudly, and
cracking absurdly in the shout: "Are you being humorous, Mr. District
Attorney? I am concerned with establishing the truth, and questioning
that man will not serve any such purpose."
Judge Mann started to speak but checked himself, watching Sergeant
Rankin step down and stride away. _Terry will not look at me. Take my
hand, Callista._ Hardly wondering at the coincidence, he felt the cool
pressure of her fingers renewed. _I shall not survive the conclusion,
win or lose, but that hardly matters, Old Man_--
"If it please the Court, the prosecution is ready to read the transcript
of the interrogation of Callista Blake on August 17th, which has been
admitted in evidence and which I have here."