Part 25 (1/2)

”Well, Isom was an unreasonable and quick-tempered man,” Joe replied.

The coroner rose to his feet in a quick start, as if he intended to leap over the table. He pointed his finger at Joe, shaking his somber beard.

”What did Isom Chase catch you at when he came into that kitchen?” he asked accusingly.

”He saw me standing there, just about to blow out the light and go to bed,” said Joe.

”What did you and Isom quarrel about last night?”

Joe did not reply at once. He seemed debating with himself over the advisability of answering at all. Then he raised his slow eyes to the coroner's face.

”That was between him and me,” said he.

”Very well,” said the coroner shortly, resuming his seat. ”You may tell the jury how Isom Chase was shot.”

Joe described Isom's leap for the gun, the struggle he had with him to restrain him, the catching of the lock in the fork as Isom tugged at the barrel, the shot, and Isom's death.

When he finished, the coroner bent over his note-book again, as if little interested and less impressed. Silence fell over the room. Then the coroner spoke, his head still bent over the book, not even turning his face toward the witness, his voice soft and low.

”You were alone with Isom in the kitchen when this happened?”

A flash of heat ran over Ollie's body. After it came a sweeping wave of cold. The room whirled; the world stood on edge. Her hour had struck; the last moment of her troubled security was speeding away. What would Joe answer to that?

”Yes,” said Joe calmly, ”we were alone.”

Ollie breathed again; her heart's constriction relaxed.

The coroner wheeled on Joe.

”Where was Mrs. Chase?” he asked.

A little murmur, as of people drawing together with whispers; a little soft scuffing of cautiously s.h.i.+fted feet on the carpet, followed the question. Ollie shrank back, as if wincing from pain.

”Mrs. Chase was upstairs in her room,” answered Joe.

The weight of a thousand centuries lifted from Ollie's body. Her vision cleared. Her breath came back in measured flow to her lips, moist and refres.h.i.+ng.

He had not told. He was standing between her and the sharp tongues of those waiting people, already licking hungrily in their awakened suspicion, ready to sear her fair name like flames. But there was no grat.i.tude in her heart that moment, no quick lifting of thankfulness nor understanding of the great peril which Joe had a.s.sumed for her. There was only relief, blessed, easing, cool relief. He had not told.

But the coroner was a persistent man. He was making more than an investigation out of it; he was fairly turning it into a trial, with Joe as the defendant. The people were ready to see that, and appreciate his attempts to uncover the dark motive that lay behind this deed, of which they were convinced, almost to a man, that Joe was guilty.

”Was Isom jealous of you?” asked the coroner, beginning the a.s.sault on Joe's reserve suddenly again when it seemed that he was through. For the first time during the inquiry Joe's voice was unsteady when he replied.

”He had no cause to be, and you've got no right to ask me that, either, sir!” he said.

”Shame on you, shame on you!” said Mrs. Newbolt, leaning toward the coroner, shaking her head reprovingly.

”I've got the right to ask you anything that I see fit and proper, young man,” the coroner rebuked him sternly.

”Well, maybe you have,” granted Joe, drawing himself straight in the chair.

”Did Isom Chase ever find you alone with his wife?” the coroner asked.