Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 61: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

~ WHOSE face was ashen, and great tears, rolling ceaselessly down her cheeks, fell on her ample bosom. L wept without shame, as did many wo- men in the court-room. Knowing that the ‘defendant need not testify, I was surprised that Randolph would allow her to take the | stand, since I knew his fears, and how easy it might be for a clever man like William | Dorsey to trap the simple-minded old / woman. But her testimony could not be shaken. She had killed her master over a scorched shirt, and she had burned the shirt! When asked why she had not told about burning the shirt at the inquest, she said because she didn’t see no use in telling everything she knew at once. She was saving something for the big judge. ‘““Where did you keep the knife ordi- narily?” questioned the prosecuting attor- ney. Sudden wrath dried Mammy’s tears. ‘« Willie,” she cried, ‘‘ you know Ah ain’t had dat knife! How Ah’m gwine to keep dat knife ordinarily when Ah ain’t had hit at all? What you tryin’ to make out? You know dat ain’t mah knife jes as well as Ah do!” A laugh ran over the court, and “ Wil- lie” applied himself to the papers on the table before him, In her excitement Mam- my had forgotten the prefix cultivated after Dorsey had come back from college, a young man, : When Mammy stepped down, there was ‘one of those strange hushes that so often go before some portentous moment; a cu- rious sense of waiting. After a pause that seemed age long, but was in reality very brief, Randolph turned to the judge. I expected, as did every’ one, perhaps, that Nita would now be called. Instead, he merely said. ‘‘ The defendant rests, your honor.” “ Gentlemen of the jury,” Dorsey began. “Wait!” It was Nita’s voice! Sharp, high-pitched! Her slim, black-robed figure stood out strikingly against the white walls of the court-room. The judge looked’ at her, surprise and sympathy in his eyes. “Wait nuttin’!” cried Mammy. “ Jedge, you go on tend to your business!” HANDS? 403 The court rapped for order. Dr. Rich- ard spoke to Nita in a low voice; but she paid no attention to him. Everybody looked uneasy, and there was a whispering and general restlessness. Randolph’s fair face was white and drawn. Nita extended her arms toward the judge, moistened her lips, opened them— but no sound came. Never have I seen any one struggle so for speech. A great lump ached in my throat. Dr. Richard tried to force her back into her chair. She resisted wordlessly. When at last she spoke, it was only a tense whisper, but it penetrated every corner of that room. “They don’t look like murderous hands, do they!”’ She turned her hands over, looking at them curiously. ‘Yet that is what they are!” A gasp went over the court-room. Ran- dolph jumped up. The judge signed to him, he sank back and covered his face with his-hands. “Yes, those hands killed Amédée de Charleu.”” Wonder and horror were in her voice, and in her eyes. There was a shifting in the jury box. The crowd leaned forward. A woman cried out. Then there was si- lence. Fans paused, and it seemed as if the very air held its breath, Mammy sat paralyzed. “Tt is the old story of the De Charleu curse,”’ Nita went on directly. ‘ The man has paid his debt to the woman, and the house of De Charleu has fallen by her hand.” “°Tain’t so!” Mammy’s shrill voice cut the stillness like the crack of a whip. “ Don’ you believe her, jedge!” The old woman tried to get out of the prisoner’s chair. ‘She sick—she ’mos’ crazy! She con’ know what she’s talkin’ *bout!” the old woman went on excitedly. “Be quiet, Mammy!” the judge com- manded. “Ah isn’t gwine to be quiet till you takes me out an’ hangs me. Ah done mur- der Mars’ Amédée, an’ Ah ain’t never gwine to be happy till Ah’s hung!” “ Silence!” commanded the court. “ Ah wants to be hung, Ah tells you!” the old woman was sobbing violently. : . Cconmiclooolks.conn