Recognising the pitiful bid for sympathy, Mahony caught himself
thinking: "Good Lord! I could have supplied him with a coat he'd have
cut a better figure than that in."
Bolliver clutched the edge of the box with his two hands. His unusual
condition was a hindrance rather than a help to him; without a peg or
two his woolly thoughts were not to be disentangled. He stammered forth
his evidence, halting either to piece together what he was going to say,
or to recollect what he had just said--it was clear he went in mortal
fear of contradicting himself. The scene was painful enough while he
faced his own counsel, but, when counsel for the defence rose, a half-hour
followed in which Mahony wished himself far from the court.
Bolliver could not come to the point. Counsel was merciless and coarsely
jocose, and brought off several laughs. His victim wound his knotty
hands in and out, and swallowed oftener than he had saliva for, in a
forlorn endeavour to evade the pitfalls artfully dug for him. More than
once he threw a covert glance, that was like an appeal for help, at all
the indifferent faces. Mahony drooped his head, that their eyes should
not meet.
In high feather at the effect he was producing, counsel inserted his
left arm under his gown, and held the stuff out from his back with the
tips of all five fingers.
"And now you'll p'raps have the goodness to tell us whether you've ever
had occasion to send goods by a carrier before, in the course of your
young life?"
"Yes.
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