Frome.  Thank you, Mr. Cokeson. [He sits down.]

Cleaver. [Rising] You say that on the morning of the forgery the prisoner was jumpy.  Well, now, sir, what precisely do you mean by that word?

Cokeson. [Indulgently] I want you to understand.  Have you ever seen a dog that’s lost its master?  He was kind of everywhere at once with his eyes.

Cleaver.  Thank you; I was coming to his eyes.  You called them “funny.”  What are we to understand by that?  Strange, or what?

Cokeson.  Ye-es, funny.

Cokeson. [Sharply] Yes, sir, but what may be funny to you may not be funny to me, or to the jury.  Did they look frightened, or shy, or fierce, or what?

Cokeson.  You make it very hard for me.  I give you the word, and you want me to give you another.

Cleaver. [Rapping his desk] Does “funny” mean mad?

Cleaver.  Not mad, fun——­

Cleaver.  Very well!  Now you say he had his collar unbuttoned?  Was it a hot day?

Cokeson.  Ye-es; I think it was.

Cleaver.  And did he button it when you called his attention to it?

Cokeson.  Ye-es, I think he did.

Cleaver.  Would you say that that denoted insanity?

     He sits downs.  Cokeson, who has opened his mouth to reply, is
     left gaping.

Frome. [Rising hastily] Have you ever caught him in that dishevelled state before?

Cokeson.  No!  He was always clean and quiet.

Frome.  That will do, thank you.

Cokeson turns blandly to the judge, as though to rebuke counsel for not remembering that the judge might wish to have a chance; arriving at the conclusion that he is to be asked nothing further, he turns and descends from the box, and sits down next to James and Walter.

Frome.  Ruth Honeywill.

     Ruth comes into court, and takes her stand stoically in the
     witness-box.  She is sworn.

Frome.  What is your name, please?

Ruth.  Ruth Honeywill.

Frome.  How old are you?

Ruth.  Twenty-six.

Frome.  You are a married woman, living with your husband?  A little louder.

Ruth.  No, sir; not since July.

Frome.  Have you any children?

Ruth.  Yes, sir, two.

Frome.  Are they living with you?

Ruth.  Yes, sir.

Frome.  You know the prisoner?

Ruth. [Looking at him] Yes.

Frome.  What was the nature of your relations with him?

Ruth.  We were friends.

The judge.  Friends?

Ruth. [Simply] Lovers, sir.