Suppose you had been guilty."
Silence.
"Answer the question!"
Silence.
"Will his Honor kindly instruct the witness to answer the question?"
Jim broke in, "His Honor cannot compel me to suppose something
that is impossible."
The jury rejoiced unwillingly, like the crowd in the bleachers
when a man on the opposing team knocks a home run. The jury liked
Jim better. But what they liked, after all, was what they falsely
imagined. They assumed that Jim had been out on a lark and got
caught and was putting up a good scrap for his lady friend. He was
a hum-dinger, and no wonder the lady fell for him. Into such slang
their souls translated the holiness of his emotions, and they voted
him guilty even in awarding him their admiration for his defense.
Beattie paused again, then suddenly asked, "Mr. Dyckman, how long
have you loved Mrs. Cheever?"
"What do you mean by 'loved'?"
"It is a familiar word. Answer the question."
"I have admired Mrs. Cheever since she was a child. We have always
been friends."
"Your 'friendship' was considerably excited when she married
Mr. Cheever, wasn't it?"
"I--I thought he was unworthy of her."
"Was that why you beat him up in a fist fight at your club?"
This startled the entire court. Even reporters who had missed the
news were excited. McNiven sprang to his feet, crying:
"I 'bject! There is no evidence before the court that there ever
was such a fight. The question is incompirrelvimmaterial.
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