ded on the table in front of him. "Your name! Your name! I
want your name, not something that you have made up like the rest of
your rubbish. How many times have you been in jail? You were once
employed in Hill street, Berkeley Square, by the Duchess of
Kincardine. When you absconded from there, where was it that the
police caught you? Answer me."

From behind the rail objections exploded like shell. But through the
running fire of them Orr held his own, sandbagging the man with one
charge after another, charge of theft, charge of forgery, but
particularly of boasting the week before, in a Sixth avenue saloon
where grooms and footmen congregate, that he could testify to anything
that he was paid for.

From ghastly Harris turned vermilion. The flush retreating left him
livid. Had the fluted columns with their fabulous beasts fallen on him
he could not have been more limp. At one question he swayed like an
animal hit on the head. At another he hissed like a snake. There were
times when he tried to hide from view. It was a curious example of the
biter bit.

"That's all," said Orr with tigerish cheerfulness at last.

He had done him. He had given him the medicine. He had more in
reserve. Peacock meanwhile had once jumped at Orr, his fist raised.
Once he gave him the lie direct. Once he accused him of suborning. But
Orr in sandbagging the witness with one hand, had another free for the
prosecution. He was gluttonish, giving as good as was sent, very often
better.

The Recorder, dismayed at the slugging, protested. "A human being is
on trial for his life. I cannot try a case where only counsel are
heard."

Immediately Orr supplied him with a diversion. One after another
witness for the defense scaled the stand, sleuths from over seas,
experts and servants.

In his corner before them Orr prowled. At the witnesses for the
prosecution he had roared, sometimes he had bounded at the Bar,
sometimes when a move of his succeeded he raised his right hand and
looked at it as though surprised that it was not blood red. But now
with his own witnesses he was serene, entirely calm, refreshingly
civil.

That civility awoke in Peacock the hyena. The first witness Orr
produced, a man who, as it afterward appeared, had had a rough and
tumble with Harris that morning in the corridor, he partly devoured.
What was left of him he sent to the Tombs. As fast as witnesses could
be produced he ate them up. It was terrific. You could not he