"AND WHERE WAS I WHEN ALL THIS HAPPENED?"


The intensity of the question, the compelling, self-forgetful
passion of the man, had a startling effect upon the crowd of
people huddled before him. With one accord, and without stopping
to pick their way, they made for the open doorway, knocking the
smaller pieces of furniture about and creating havoc generally.
Some fled the house; others stopped to peer in again from behind
the folds of the curtain which had been only partially torn from
its fastenings. Miss Weeks was the only one to stand her ground.

When the room was quite cleared and the noise abated (it was a
frightful experience to see how little the judge had been affected
by all this hubbub of combined movement and sound), she stepped
within the line of his vision and lifted her feeble and
ineffectual hand in an effort to attract his attention to herself.

But he did not notice her, any more than he had noticed the
others. Still looking in the one direction, he cried aloud in
troubled tones:

"She stood there! the woman stood there and I saw her! Where is
she now?"

"She is no longer in the house," came in gentle reply from the
only one in or out of the room courageous enough to speak. "She
went out when she saw us coming. We knew that she had no right to
be here. That is why we intruded ourselves, sir. We did not like
the looks of her, and so followed her in to prevent mischief."