He bows; says that is enough. The opposing
attorney has no question to put on cross-examination: he knows
Graspum too well. Being quite at home with the gentlemen of the
legal profession, they know his cool nonchalance never can be shaken
upon a point of testimony.
"Any questions to put?" asks the legal opponent, with an air of
indifference.
"No, nothing," is the reply.
His brother of special pleas smiles, gives a cunning glance at
Graspum, and wipes his face with a very white handkerchief. He is
conscious of the character of his man; it saves all further trouble.
"When we know who we have to deal with, we know how to deal," he
mutters, as he sits down.
Graspum retires from the stand, and takes his seat among the
witnesses. "We will now call Anthony Romescos," says the attorney. A
few minutes' pause, and that individual rolls out in all his
independence, takes his place on the stand. He goes through a long
series of questioning and cross-questioning, answers for which he
seems to have well studied.
The whole amounts to nothing more than a corroboration of Graspum's
testimony. He has heard Marston call their mothers property: once,
he thinks, but would hesitate before pledging his honour, that
Marston offered to him the woman Clotilda. Yes; it was her!
Considerable excitement is now apparent; the auditory whisper among
themselves, attorneys put their heads together, turn and turn over
the leaves of their statutes. His honour, the Court, looks wiser
still.
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