Before that alkaline grin Jim felt his faith in himself wavering.
He remembered unworthy thoughts he had entertained, graceless
things he had done; he felt that his presence here as a knight of
unassailable purity was hypocritical. He winced at all points from
the uncertainty as to the point to be attacked. His life was like
a long frontier and his enemy was mobilized for a sudden offensive.
He would know the point selected for the assault when he felt the
assault. The first gun was that popular device, a supposititious
question.
"Mr. Dyckman, you are accused of--well, we'll say co-respondence
with the co-respondent. You have denied your guilt in sundry
affidavits and on the witness-stand here. Remembering the classic
and royal ideal of the man who 'perjured himself like a gentleman,'
and assuming--I say 'assuming' what you deny--that you had been
guilty, would you have admitted it?"
"I could not have been guilty."
"Could not? Really! you astonish me! And why not, please?"
"Because Mrs. Cheever would never have consented. She is
a good woman."
This unexpected answer to the old trick question jolted Beattie
perceptibly and brought the jury forward a little. The tears gushed
to Charity's eyes and she felt herself unworthy a champion so pious.
Beattie acknowledged the jolt with a wry smile and returned:
"Very gallant, Mr. Dyckman; you want to be a gentleman and avoid
the perjury, too. But I must ask you to answer the question.
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