The business of the day went forward in the usual way with all the red
tape, the cool formalities, as if some trifling matter were at stake,
and those who loved Mark sat with aching hearts and waited. The Severns
in their corner sat for the most part with bended heads and praying
hearts. The witnesses for the prosecution were most of them companions
of the dead man, those who had drank and caroused with him, frequenters
of the Blue Duck, and they were herded together, an evil looking crowd,
but with erect heads and defiant attitude, the air of having donned
unaccustomed garments of righteousness for the occasion, and making a
great deal of it because for once every one must see that they were in
the right. They were fairly loud mouthed in their boasting about it.
There was the little old wizened up fellow that had been sitting with
the drinks outside the booth the night Billy telephoned. There were the
serving men who had waited on Mark and Cherry. There was the proprietor
of the Blue Duck himself, who testified that Mark had often been there
with Cherry, though always early in the evening. Once he had caught him
outside the window looking in at the dancers as late as two o'clock at
night, the same window from which the shot was fired that brought Dolph
to his death. They testified that Mark had been seen with Cherry much
of late driving in his car, and that she had often been in deep
converse as if having a hot argument about something.
The feeling was tense in the court room. Tears were in many eyes,
hopeless tears in the eyes of those who had loved the boy for years.
But the grilling order marched on, and witness after witness came,
adding another and another little touch to the gradually rising
structure that would shut Mark Carter away from the world that loved
him and that he loved forever.
Cherry was called, a flaunting bit of a child with bobbed golden hair
and the air of a bold young seraph, her white face bravely painted, her
cherry lips cherrier even than the cherry for which she had been named.
She wore a silk coat reaching to the bottom of her frock, which was
shorter than the shortest, and daring little high-heeled many strapped
shoes with a myriad of bright buckles. Her hat was an insolent affair
of cherry red. She made a blinding bit of color in the dreary court
room. She appeared half frightened, half defiant. Her sharp little face
seemed to have lost its round curves and childlike sweetness. She
testified that she had been with Mark on the night of the shooting, but
that he had taken her home early and she had seen no more of him that
night. She admitted that she had returned later to the Blue Duck Tavern
with Dolph and had danced late and eaten supper with him afterwards,
and that it was while they were eating that the shot was fired and
Dolph fell over on the table. No, she didn't see any face at the
window. She had covered her face with her hands and screamed. She
guessed she fainted. Questioned further she admitted that she had had
an argument with Mark earlier in the evening, but she "didn't remember
what it was about." They often argued. Yes, Dolph was jealous of Mark
and tried to stop her going with him. Yes, Mark had tried to stop her
going with Dolph too, but he never acted jealous--On and on through the
sorry little details of Cherry's career. The court room vultures
receiving it avidly, the more refined part of the company with distaste
and disgust. Mark sat with stern white face looking straight at Cherry
all the time she was on the stand as if he dared her to say other than
the truth. When she happened to look that way she gave a giggling
little shudder and half turned her shoulder away, avoiding his eyes.
But when she was done she had said nothing against Mark, and nothing to
clear him either.