"Oh, well, I'll go down there and give the word." He rubbed his eyes
wearily with big thumbs. "I'm through fighting. I'm done. Besides,
what's the use? There's nothing more to fight."
"Now, Judge," Joe said, as he came in briskly, "we'll go over the list
of that unencumbered property, if you will."
This unencumbered property consisted of Beaver Beach and those other
belongings of the Judge which he had not dared to mortgage. Joe had
somehow explained their nature to Ariel, and these with the Tocsin she
had elected to accept in restitution.
"You told me once that I ought to look after my own property, and now I
will. Don't you see?" she cried to Joe, eagerly. "It's my work!" She
resolutely set aside every other proposition; and this was the quality
of mercy which Martin Pike found that night.
There was a great crowd to hear Joe's summing-up at the trial, and
those who succeeded in getting into the court-room declared that it was
worth the struggle. He did not orate, he did not "thunder at the
jury," nor did he slyly flatter them; he did not overdo the
confidential, nor seem so secure of understanding beforehand what their
verdict would be that they felt an instinctive desire to fool him. He
talked colloquially but clearly, without appeal to the pathetic and
without garnitures, not mentioning sunsets, birds, oceans, homes, the
glorious old State, or the happiness of liberty; but he made everybody
in the room quite sure that Happy Fear had fired the shot which killed
Cory to save his own life. And that, as Mr. Bradbury remarked to the
Colonel, was "what Joe was THERE for!"
Ariel's escort was increased to four that day: Mr. Ladew sat beside
her, and there were times when Joe kept his mind entirely to the work
in hand only by an effort, but he always succeeded. The sight of the
pale and worshipping face of Happy Fear from the corner of his eye was
enough to insure that. And people who could not get near the doors,
asking those who could, "What's he doin' now?" were answered by
variations of the one formula, "Oh, jest walkin' away with it!"
Once the court-room was disturbed and set in an uproar which even the
Judge's customary threat failed to subdue. Joe had been talking very
rapidly, and having turned the point he was making with perfect
dexterity, the jury listening eagerly, stopped for a moment to take a
swallow of water. A voice rose over the low hum of the crowd in a
delirious chuckle: "Why don't somebody 'HEAD HIM OFF!'" The room
instantly rocked with laughter, under cover of which the identity of
the sacrilegious chuckler was not discovered, but the voice was the
voice of Buckalew, who was incredibly surprised to find that he had
spoken aloud.
The jury were "out," after the case had been given to them, seventeen
minutes and thirty seconds by the watch Claudine held in her hand. The
little man, whose fate was now on the knees of the gods, looked
pathetically at the foreman and then at the face of his lawyer and
began to shake violently, but not with fright. He had gone to the jail
on Joe's word, as a good dog goes where his master bids, trustfully;
and yet Happy had not been able to keep his mind from considering the
horrible chances. "Don't worry," Joe had said. "It's all right. I'll
see you through." And he had kept his word.
The little man was cleared.
It took Happy a long time to get through what he had to say to his
attorney in the anteroom, and even then, of course, he did not manage
to put it in words, for he had "broken down" with sheer gratitude.
"Why, damn ME, Joe," he sobbed, "if ever I--if ever you--well, by God!
if you ever--" This was the substance of his lingual accomplishment
under the circumstances. But Claudine threw her arms around poor Joe's
neck and kissed him.
Many people were waiting to shake hands with Joe and congratulate him.
The trio, taking advantage of seats near the rail, had already done
that (somewhat uproariously) before he had followed Happy, and so had
Ariel and Ladew, both, necessarily, rather hurriedly. But in the
corridors he found, when he came out of the anteroom, clients,
acquaintances, friends: old friends, new friends, and friends he had
never seen before--everybody beaming upon him and wringing his hand, as
if they had been sure of it all from the start.
"KNOW him?" said one to another. "Why, I've knowed him sence he was
that high! SMART little feller he was, too!" This was a total
stranger.
"I said, years ago"--thus Mr. Brown, the "National House" clerk,
proving his prophetic vision--"that he'd turn out to be a big man some
day."
They gathered round him if he stopped for an instant, and crowded after
him admiringly when he went on again, making his progress slow. When
he finally came out of the big doors into the sunshine, there were as
many people in the yard as there had been when he stood in the same
place and watched the mob rushing his client's guards. But to-day their
temper was different, and as he paused a moment, looking down on the
upturned, laughing faces, with a hundred jocular and congratulatory
salutations shouted up at him, somebody started a cheer, and it was
taken up with thunderous good-will.
There followed the interrogation customary in such emergencies, and the
anxious inquirer was informed by four or five hundred people
simultaneously that Joe Louden was all right.
"HEAD HIM OFF!" bellowed Mike Sheehan, suddenly darting up the steps.
The shout increased, and with good reason, for he stepped quickly back
within the doors; and, retreating through the building, made good his
escape by a basement door.
He struck off into a long detour, but though he managed to evade the
crowd, he had to stop and shake hands with every third person he met.
As he came out upon Main Street again, he encountered his father.
"Howdy do, Joe?" said this laconic person, and offered his hand. They
shook, briefly. "Well," he continued, rubbing his beard, "how are ye?"
"All right, father, I think."
"Satisfied with the verdict?"
"I'd be pretty hard to please if I weren't," Joe laughed.
Mr. Louden rubbed his beard again. "I was there," he said, without
emotion.
"At the trial, you mean?"
"Yes." He offered his hand once more, and again they shook. "Well,
come around and see us," he said.
"Thank you. I will."
"Well," said Mr. Louden, "good-day, Joe."
"Good-day, father."
The young man stood looking after him with a curious smile. Then he
gave a slight start. Far up the street he saw two figures, one a
lady's, in white, with a wide white hat; the other a man's, wearing
recognizably clerical black. They seemed to be walking very slowly.
It had been a day of triumph for Joe; but in all his life he never
slept worse than he did that night.