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"
You
mean
the
place
where
some
blood
was
found
?
"
doubtingly
interrogates
the
judge
.
"
I
mean
the
place
where
Henry
Poindexter
was
assassinated
.
"
There
is
a
fresh
exhibition
of
astonishment
in
the
Court
--
expressed
in
muttered
speeches
and
low
exclamations
.
One
louder
than
the
rest
is
a
groan
.
It
is
given
by
Woodley
Poindexter
;
now
for
the
first
time
made
certain
he
has
no
longer
a
son
!
In
the
heart
of
the
father
has
still
lingered
a
hope
that
his
son
may
be
alive
:
that
he
might
be
only
missing
--
kept
out
of
the
way
by
accident
,
illness
,
Indians
,
or
some
other
circumstance
.
As
yet
there
has
been
no
positive
proof
of
his
death
--
only
a
thread
of
circumstantial
evidence
,
and
it
of
the
slightest
.
This
hope
,
by
the
testimony
of
the
accused
himself
,
is
no
longer
tenable
.
"
You
are
sure
he
is
dead
,
then
?
"
is
the
question
put
to
the
prisoner
by
the
prosecuting
counsel
.
"
Quite
sure
,
"
responds
the
accused
.
"
Had
you
seen
him
as
I
did
,
you
would
think
the
interrogatory
a
very
idle
one
.
"
"
You
saw
the
body
?
"
"
I
must
take
exception
to
this
course
of
examination
,
"
interposes
the
counsel
for
the
accused
.
"
It
is
quite
irregular
.
"
"
Faith
!
in
an
Owld
Country
court
it
would
n't
be
allowed
,
"
adds
the
Cis-Atlantic
attorney
.
"
The
counsel
for
the
prosecution
would
n't
be
permitted
to
spake
,
till
it
came
to
the
cross-examination
.
"
