my client at the Market Hall last night; they kicked him with violence; with extraordinary violence; with even unprecedented violence, I may say; insomuch that he was lifted entirely off his feet and discharged into the midst of the audience. We can prove this by four hundred witnesses—we shall call but three. Mr. Harkness will take the stand.”
Mr. Harkness, being sworn, testified that he was chairman upon the occasion mentioned; that he was close at hand and saw the defendants in this action kick the plaintiff into the air and saw him descend among the audience.
“Take the witness,” said Allen.
“Mr. Harkness,” said Wilson, “you say you saw these gentlemen, my clients, kick the plaintiff. Are you sure—and please remember that you are on oath—are you perfectly sure that you saw both of them kick him, or only one? Now be careful.”
A bewildered look began to spread itself over the witness’s face. He hesitated, stammered, but got out nothing. His eyes wandered to the twins and fixed themselves there with a vacant gaze.
“Please answer, Mr. Harkness, you are keeping the court waiting. It is a very simple question.”
Counsel for the prosecution broke in with impatience:
“Your honor, the question is an irrelevant triviality. Necessarily, they both kicked him, for they have but the one pair of legs, and both are responsible for them.”
Wilson said, sarcastically:
“Will your honor permit this new witness to be sworn? He seems to possess knowledge which can be of the utmost value just at this moment—knowledge which would at once dispose of what every one must see is a very difficult question in this case. Brother Allen, will you take the stand?”
“Go on with your case!” said Allen, petulantly. The audience laughed, and got a warning from the court.
“Now, Mr. Harkness,” said Wilson, insinuatingly, “we shall have to insist upon an answer to that question.”
“I—er—well, of course, I do not absolutely know, but in my opinion—”
“Never mind your opinion, sir—answer the question.”
“I—why, I can’t answer it.”
“That will do, Mr. Harkness. Stand down.”
The audience tittered, and the discomfited witness retired in a state of great embarrassment.
Mr. Wakeman took the stand and swore that he saw the twins kick the plaintiff off the platform.
The defense took the witness.
“Mr. Wakeman, you have sworn that you saw these gentlemen kick the plaintiff. Do I understand you to swear that you saw them both do it?”
“Yes, sir,”—with decision.
“How do you know that both did it?”
“Because I saw them do it.”
The audience laughed, and got another warning from the court.
“But by what means do you know that both, and not one, did it?”
“Well, in the first place, the insult was given to both of them equally, for they were called a pair of scissors. Of course they would both want to resent it, and so—”
“Wait! You are theorizing now. Stick to facts—counsel will attend to the arguments. Go on.”
“Well, they both went over there—that I saw.”
“Very good. Go on.”
“And they both kicked him—I swear to it.”
“Mr. Wakeman, was Count Luigi, here, willing to join the Sons of Liberty last night?”
“Yes, sir, he was. He did join, too, and drank a glass or two of whisky, like a man.”
“Was his brother willing to join?”
“No, sir, he wasn’t. He is a teetotaler, and was elected through a mistake.”
“Was he given a glass of whisky?”
“Yes, sir, but of course that was another mistake, and not intentional. He wouldn’t drink it. He set it down.” A slight pause, then he added, casually and quite simply: “The plaintiff reached for it and hogged it.”
There was a fine outburst of laughter, but as the justice was caught out himself, his reprimand was not very vigorous.
Mr. Allen jumped up and exclaimed: “I protest against these foolish irrelevancies. What have they to do with the case?”
Wilson said: “Calm yourself, brother, it was only an experiment. Now, Mr. Wakeman, if one of these gentlemen chooses to join an association and the other doesn’t; and if one of them enjoys whisky and the other doesn’t, but sets it aside and leaves it unprotected” (titter from the audience), “it seems to show that they have independent minds, and tastes, and preferences, and that one of them is able to approve of a thing at the very moment that the other is heartily disapproving of it. Doesn’t it seem so to you?”
“Certainly it does. It’s perfectly plain.”
“Now, then, it might be—I only say it might be—that one of these brothers wanted to kick the plaintiff last night, and that the other didn’t want that humiliating punishment inflicted upon him in that public way and before all those people. Isn’t that possible?”
“Of course it is. It’s more than possible. I don’t believe the blond one would kick anybody. It was the other one that—”
“Silence!” shouted the plaintiff’s counsel, and went on with an angry sentence which was lost in the wave of laughter that swept the house.
“That will do, Mr. Wakeman,” said Wilson, “you may stand down.”
The third witness was called. He had seen the twins kick the plaintiff. Mr. Wilson took the witness.
“Mr. Rogers, you say you saw these accused gentlemen kick the plaintiff?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which of them kicked him first?”
“Why—they—they both kicked him at the same time.
“Are you perfectly sure of that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What makes you sure of it?”
“Why, I stood right behind them, and saw them do it.”
“How many kicks were delivered?”
“Only one.”
“If
