Finally Beattie said, "You say you left the fair corespondent
alone in the hotel parlor?"
"I did."
"All alone?"
"Yes."
"And you went out into the night, as the saying is?"
"Yes."
"But you testified that it was raining."
"It was."
"You went out into the rain?"
"Yes."
"To cool your fevered brow?"
Silence from Jim; shrieks of laughter from the silly spectators.
The jury was shattered with amusement; the judge wiped a grin
from his lips. Beattie resumed:
"Where did you sleep?"
"In the office chair."
"You paid for the parlor! You registered! And you slept in the
chair!" [Gales of laughter. His Honor threatens to clear the court.]
"Who saw you asleep in the chair?"
"I don't know--I was asleep."
"Are you sure that you did not just dream about the chair?"
"I am sure."
"That's all."
Jim stepped down, feeling idiotic.
There is a dignity that survives and is illumined by flames of
martyrdom, but there is no dignity that is improved by a bladder-
buffeting. Jim slunk back to his place and cowered, while the
attorneys made their harangues.
McNiven spoke with passion and he had the truth on his side, but
it lacked the convincing look. Beattie rocked the jury-box with
laughter and showed a gift for parodying seriousness that would
carry him far on his career. Then he switched to an ardent defense
of the purity of the American home, and ennobled the jury to a
knighthood of chivalry and of democracy.
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