and send him to jail in
contempt, and hold him there, his case undecided, until he would answer
the question asked.

Joe bowed respectfully when the judge concluded, conveying in that
manner that he understood.

"If anything could be gained by it, sir, by anybody--except myself,
perhaps--or if it would bring Isom back to life, or make anybody
happier, I wouldn't refuse a minute, sir," said Joe. "What Mr. Lucas
asks me to tell I've refused to tell before. I've refused to tell it for
my own mother and Mr. Hammer and--others. I respect the law and this
court, sir, as much as any man in this room, and it pains me to stand in
this position before you, sir.

"But I can't talk about that. It wouldn't change what I've told about
the way Isom was killed. What I've told you is the truth. What passed
between Isom and me before he took hold of the gun isn't mine to tell.
That's all there is to be said, Judge Maxwell, sir."

"You must answer the prosecuting attorney's question," said Judge
Maxwell sternly. "No matter what motive of honor or fealty to the dead,
or thought of sparing the living, may lie behind your concealment of
these facts, the law does not, cannot, take it into account. Your duty
now is to reply to all questions asked, and you will be given another
opportunity to do so. Proceed, Mr. Prosecutor."

Hammer had given it up. He sat like a man collapsed, bending over his
papers on the table, trying to make a front in his defeat before the
public. The prosecuting attorney resumed the charge, framing his attack
in quick lunges. He was in a clinch, using the short-arm jab.

"After Isom Chase came into the room you had words?"

"We had some words," replied Joe slowly, weary that this thing should
have to be gone over again.

"Were they loud and boisterous words, or were they low and subdued?"

"Well, Isom talked pretty loud when he was mad," said Joe.

"Loud enough for anybody upstairs to hear--loud enough to wake anybody
asleep up there?"

"I don't know," said Joe coldly, resentful of this flanking subterfuge.

He must go through that turmoil of strain and suffering again, all
because Morgan, the author of this evil thing, had lacked the manhood to
come forward and admit his misdeeds.

The thoughts will travel many a thousand miles while the tongue covers
an inch; even while Joe answered he was thinking of this. More crowded
upon him as he waited the prosecutor's next question. Why should he
suffer all that