I will call Mr. John Buckstone, who is now present, and I beg that Mrs. Patsy Cooper may be sent for. Take the stand, Mr. Buckstone.”
Buckstone took the oath, and then testified that on the previous evening the Count Angelo Capello had protested against going to the hall, and had called all present to witness that he was going by compulsion and would not go if he could help himself. Also, that the Count Luigi had replied sharply that he would go, just the same, and that he, Count Luigi, would see to that himself. Also, that upon Count Angelo’s complaining about being kept on his legs so long, Count Luigi retorted with apparent surprise, “Your legs!—I like your impudence!”
“Now we are getting at the kernel of the thing,” observed the judge, with grave and earnest satisfaction. “It looks as if the Count Luigi was in possession of the battery at the time of the assault.”
Nothing further was elicited from Mr. Buckstone on direct examination. Mr. Wilson took the witness.
“Mr. Buckstone, about what time was it that that conversation took place?”
“Toward nine yesterday evening, sir.”
“Did you then proceed directly to the hall?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long did it take you to go there?”
“Well, we walked; and as it was from the extreme edge of the town, and there was no hurry, I judge it took us about twenty minutes, maybe a trifle more.”
“About what hour was the kick delivered?”
“About thirteen minutes and a half to ten.”
“Admirable! You are a pattern witness, Mr. Buckstone. How did you happen to look at your watch at that particular moment?”
“I always do it when I see an assault. It’s likely I shall be called as a witness, and it’s a good point to have.”
“It would be well if others were as thoughtful. Was anything said, between the conversation at my house and the assault, upon the detail which we are now examining into?”
“No, sir.”
“If power over the mutual legs was in the possession of one brother at nine, and passed into the possession of the other one during the next thirty or forty minutes, do you think you could have detected the change?”
“By no means!”
“That is all, Mr. Buckstone.”
Mrs. Patsy Cooper was called. The crowd made way for her, and she came smiling and bowing through the narrow human lane, with Betsy Hale, as escort and support, smiling and bowing in her wake, the audience breaking into welcoming cheers as the old favorites filed along. The judge did not check this kindly demonstration of homage and affection, but let it run its course unrebuked.
The old ladies stopped and shook hands with the twins with effusion, then gave the judge a friendly nod, and bustled into the seats provided for them. They immediately began to deliver a volley of eager questions at the friends around them: “What is this thing for?” “What is that thing for?” “Who is that young man that’s writing at the desk? Why, I declare, it’s Jack Bunce! I thought he was sick.” “Which is the jury? Why, is that the jury? Billy Price and Job Turner, and Jack Lounsbury, and—well, I never!” “Now who would ever ‘a’ thought—”
But they were gently called to order at this point, and asked not to talk in court. Their tongues fell silent, but the radiant interest in their faces remained, and their gratitude for the blessing of a new sensation and a novel experience still beamed undimmed from their eyes. Aunt Patsy stood up and took the oath, and Mr. Allen explained the point in issue, and asked her to go on now, in her own way, and throw as much light upon it as she could. She toyed with her reticule a moment or two, as if considering where to begin, then she said:
“Well, the way of it is this. They are Luigi’s legs a week at a time, and then they are Angelo’s, and he can do whatever he wants to with them.”
“You are making a mistake, Aunt Patsy Cooper,” said the judge. “You shouldn’t state that as a fact, because you don’t know it to be a fact.”
“What’s the reason I don’t?” said Aunt Patsy, bridling a little.
“What is the reason that you do know it?”
“The best in the world because they told me.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“Well, for the land’s sake! Betsy Hale, do you hear that?”
“Hear it? I should think so,” said Aunt Betsy, rising and facing the court. “Why, Judge, I was there and heard it myself. Luigi says to Angelo—no, it was Angelo said it to—”
“Come, come, Mrs. Hale, pray sit down, and—”
“Certainly, it’s all right, I’m going to sit down presently, but not until I’ve—”
“But you must sit down!”
“Must! Well, upon my word if things ain’t getting to a pretty pass when—”
The house broke into laughter, but was promptly brought to order, and meantime Mr. Allen persuaded the old lady to take her seat. Aunt Patsy continued:
“Yes, they told me that, and I know it’s true. They’re Luigi’s legs this week, but—”
“Ah, they told you that, did they?” said the Justice, with interest.
“Well, no, I don’t know that they told me, but that’s neither here nor there. I know, without that, that at dinner yesterday, Angelo was as tired as a dog, and yet Luigi wouldn’t lend him the legs to go up-stairs and take a nap with.”
“Did he ask for them?”
“Let me see—it seems to me, somehow, that—that—Aunt Betsy, do you remember whether he—”
“Never mind about what Aunt Betsy remembers—she is not a witness; we only want to know what YOU remember yourself,” said the judge.
“Well, it does seem to me that you are most cantankerously particular about a little thing, Sim Robinson. Why, when I can’t remember a thing myself, I always—”
“Ah, please go on!”
“Now how can she when you keep fussing at her all the time?” said Aunt Betsy. “Why, with a person pecking at me that way, I should get that fuzzled and fuddled that—”
She was on her feet again, but Allen coaxed her into her seat once more, while the court squelched the mirth of the house. Then the judge said:
“Madam, do you know—do you absolutely know, independently of anything these gentlemen have told you—that the power over their legs passes from the one to the other regularly every week?”
“Regularly? Bless your heart, regularly ain’t any name for the exactness of it! All the big cities in Europe used to set the clocks
