He had always had a lurking fear that he
would hear it say something devastating to him, from the great chair
where its owner sat and dispensed what justice a jury would permit him to
do. That devastating something would be agony to one who loved liberty
and freedom--had not that ever been his watchword, liberty and freedom to
do what he pleased in the world and with the world? Yes, he well knew
Judge Carcasson's voice. He would have recognized it in the dark--or
under the black cap. "M'sieu' le juge!" he said, even before he turned
round and saw the faces of the tiny Judge and his Clerk of the Court.
There was a kind of quivering about his mouth, and a startled look in his
eyes as he faced the two. But there was the widow of Palass Poucette,
and, if he was to pursue and frequent her, something must be done to keep
him decently figured in her eye and mind.
"It cost me three dollars to come here and save a man from jail to-day,
m'sieu' le juge," he added firmly. The Judge pressed the point of his
cane against the stomach of the hypocrite and perjurer. "If the Devil and
you meet, he will take off his hat to you, my escaped anarchist"--Dolores
started almost violently now--"for you can teach him much, and Ananias
was the merest aboriginal to you. But we'll get you--we'll get you,
Dolores. You saved that guilty fellow by a careful and remarkable perjury
to-day.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205