Then she lift up on one elbow, and look about
quick, in big hurry, and when she see Vincent she look no more, only
she look at Vincent all the time. Then she point at him, just like
that." Suiting the action to the word, La Flitche turned and thrust a
wavering finger at the prisoner. "And she say, 'Him, him, him.' And I
say, 'Bella, who did it?' And she say, 'Him, him, him. St. Vincha,
him do it.' And then"--La Flitche's head felt limply forward on his
chest, and came back naturally erect, as he finished, with a flash of
teeth, "Dead."
The warm-faced man, Bill Brown, put the quarter-breed through the
customary direct examination, which served to strengthen his testimony
and to bring out the fact that a terrible struggle must have taken
place in the killing of Borg. The heavy table was smashed, the stool
and the bunk-board splintered, and the stove over-thrown. "Never did I
see anything like it," La Flitche concluded his description of the
wreck. "No, never."
Brown turned him over to Frona with a bow, which a smile of hers paid
for in full. She did not deem it unwise to cultivate cordiality with
the lawyer. What she was working for was time--time for her father to
come, time to be closeted with St. Vincent and learn all the details of
what really had occurred. So she put questions, questions,
interminable questions, to La Flitche.
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