Part 30 (1/2)
You're sorry, my father-in-law is sorry, and I suppose my mother-in-law is shedding tears for me, too. You're all sorry and you're all wearing c.r.a.pe for us, but why can't some of you _do_ something?”
The lawyer said nothing. He still stared at her in a strange, absent-minded kind of way, until finally she lost patience. Boldly she said:
”Well, you sent for me. What do you want to see me about, judge?”
”I want to tell you that you mustn't come here again,” he answered.
”Anything else?” she exclaimed.
The judge began to fuss with the papers on his desk, as he usually did when embarra.s.sed for words.
”Of course,” he stammered, ”you will be amply compensated.”
”Of course,” she cried. Rising from her chair, she shrugged her shoulders, and said:
”Oh, well, this is not my lucky day. They wouldn't let me into the prison to see Howard to-day. Captain Clinton doesn't like me. He has always tried to prevent my seeing Howard, but I'll see him to-morrow, captain or no captain. He can make up his mind to that!”
The lawyer looked up at her.
”Poor girl--you are having a hard time, aren't you?”
”Things have been better,” she replied, with a tremor in her voice.
”Howard and I were very happy when we first----” A sob choked her utterance, and she forced a laugh, saying: ”Here, I must keep off that subject----”
”Why do you laugh?” demanded the lawyer.
Already hysterical, Annie had great difficulty in keeping back her tears.
”Well, if I don't laugh,” she sobbed, ”I'll cry; and as I don't want to cry--why--I just laugh. It's got to be one or the other--see----?”
He said nothing, and she continued:
”Well, I guess I'll go home--home--that's the worst part of it--home----”
She stopped short, she could go no further. Her bosom was heaving, the hot tears were rolling down her cheeks. The old lawyer turned away his head so that she might not see the suspicious redness in his eyes.
Moving toward the door, she turned around.
”Well, you have your own troubles, judge. I'll go now, but I'll come again to-morrow. Perhaps you'll have better news for me.”
The lawyer waved her back to her seat with a commanding gesture she could not resist. There was determination around his mouth; in his face was an expression she had not seen there before.
”Sit down again for a moment,” he said sharply. ”I want to ask you a question. How do you account for Howard's confessing to the shooting?”
”I don't account for it,” she replied, as she resumed her seat. ”He says he didn't confess. I don't believe he did.”
”But three witnesses----”
”Who are the witnesses?” she interrupted contemptuously. ”Policemen!”
”That makes no difference,” he said. ”He made a confession and signed----”