Within the Law [98]
the keen expectancy of the hunter on the trail, which was characteristic of him in his professional work. The District Attorney himself was less vitally eager, but his curiosity, as well as his wish to escape from an embarrassing situation, showed openly on his alert countenance. The heavy features of the father were twisting a little in nervous spasms, for to him this hour was all anguish, since his only son was in such horrible plight. Dick alone seemed almost tranquil, though the outward calm was belied by the flickering of his eyelids and the occasional involuntary movement of the lips. Finally he spoke, in a cold, weary voice.
"I shot Griggs," he said.
Demarest realized subtly that his plea had failed, but he made ar effort to resist the impression, to take the admission at its face value.
"Why?" he demanded.
Dick's answer came in the like unmeaning tones, and as wearily.
"Because I thought he was a burglar."
The District Attorney was beginning to feel his professional pride aroused against this young man who so flagrantly repelled his attempts to learn the truth concerning the crime that had been committed. He resorted to familiar artifices for entangling one questioned.
"Oh, I see!" he said, in a tone of conviction. "Now, let's go back a little. Burke says you told him last night that you had persuaded your wife to come over to the house, and join you there. Is that right?"
"Yes." The monosyllable was uttered indifferently. "And, while the two of you were talking," Demarest continued in a matter-of-fact manner. He did not conclude the sentence, but asked instead: "Now, tell me, Dick, just what did happen, won't you?"
There was no reply; and, after a little interval, the lawyer resumed his questioning.
"Did this burglar come into the room?"
Dick nodded an assent.
"And he attacked you?"
There came another nod of affirmation.
"And there was a struggle?"
"Yes," Dick said, and now there was resolution in his answer.
"And you shot him?" Demarest asked, smoothly.
"Yes," the young man said again.
"Then," the lawyer countered on the instant, "where did you get the revolver?"
Dick started to answer without thought:
"Why, I grabbed it----" Then, the significance of this crashed on his consciousness, and he checked the words trembling on his lips. His eyes, which had been downcast, lifted and glared on the questioner. "So," he said with swift hostility in his voice, "so, you're trying to trap me, too!" He shrugged his shoulders in a way he had learned abroad. "You! And you talk of friendship. I want none of such friendship."
Demarest, greatly disconcerted, was skilled, nevertheless, in dissembling, and he hid his chagrin perfectly. There was only reproach in his voice as he answered stoutly:
"I am your friend, Dick."
But Burke would be no longer restrained. He had listened with increasing impatience to the diplomatic efforts of the District Attorney, which had ended in total rout. Now, he insisted on employing his own more drastic, and, as he believed, more efficacious, methods. He stood up, and spoke in his most threatening manner.
"You don't want to take us for fools, young man," he said, and his big tones rumbled harshly through the room. "If you shot Griggs in mistake for a burglar, why did you try to hide the fact? Why did you pretend to me that you and your wife were alone in the room--when you had *THAT there with you, eh? Why didn't you call for help? Why didn't you call for the police, as any honest man would naturally under such circumstances?"
The arraignment was severely logical. Dick showed his appreciation of the justice of it in the whitening of his face, nor did he try to answer the charges thus hurled at him.
The father, too, appreciated the gravity of the situation. His face was working, as if toward tears.
"We're trying to save you," he pleaded, tremulously.
Burke persisted in his vehement system of attack. Now, he again brought out the weapon that had done Eddie Griggs to death.
"Where'd
"I shot Griggs," he said.
Demarest realized subtly that his plea had failed, but he made ar effort to resist the impression, to take the admission at its face value.
"Why?" he demanded.
Dick's answer came in the like unmeaning tones, and as wearily.
"Because I thought he was a burglar."
The District Attorney was beginning to feel his professional pride aroused against this young man who so flagrantly repelled his attempts to learn the truth concerning the crime that had been committed. He resorted to familiar artifices for entangling one questioned.
"Oh, I see!" he said, in a tone of conviction. "Now, let's go back a little. Burke says you told him last night that you had persuaded your wife to come over to the house, and join you there. Is that right?"
"Yes." The monosyllable was uttered indifferently. "And, while the two of you were talking," Demarest continued in a matter-of-fact manner. He did not conclude the sentence, but asked instead: "Now, tell me, Dick, just what did happen, won't you?"
There was no reply; and, after a little interval, the lawyer resumed his questioning.
"Did this burglar come into the room?"
Dick nodded an assent.
"And he attacked you?"
There came another nod of affirmation.
"And there was a struggle?"
"Yes," Dick said, and now there was resolution in his answer.
"And you shot him?" Demarest asked, smoothly.
"Yes," the young man said again.
"Then," the lawyer countered on the instant, "where did you get the revolver?"
Dick started to answer without thought:
"Why, I grabbed it----" Then, the significance of this crashed on his consciousness, and he checked the words trembling on his lips. His eyes, which had been downcast, lifted and glared on the questioner. "So," he said with swift hostility in his voice, "so, you're trying to trap me, too!" He shrugged his shoulders in a way he had learned abroad. "You! And you talk of friendship. I want none of such friendship."
Demarest, greatly disconcerted, was skilled, nevertheless, in dissembling, and he hid his chagrin perfectly. There was only reproach in his voice as he answered stoutly:
"I am your friend, Dick."
But Burke would be no longer restrained. He had listened with increasing impatience to the diplomatic efforts of the District Attorney, which had ended in total rout. Now, he insisted on employing his own more drastic, and, as he believed, more efficacious, methods. He stood up, and spoke in his most threatening manner.
"You don't want to take us for fools, young man," he said, and his big tones rumbled harshly through the room. "If you shot Griggs in mistake for a burglar, why did you try to hide the fact? Why did you pretend to me that you and your wife were alone in the room--when you had *THAT there with you, eh? Why didn't you call for help? Why didn't you call for the police, as any honest man would naturally under such circumstances?"
The arraignment was severely logical. Dick showed his appreciation of the justice of it in the whitening of his face, nor did he try to answer the charges thus hurled at him.
The father, too, appreciated the gravity of the situation. His face was working, as if toward tears.
"We're trying to save you," he pleaded, tremulously.
Burke persisted in his vehement system of attack. Now, he again brought out the weapon that had done Eddie Griggs to death.
"Where'd