Through the Wall Part 77

"What is your name?" questioned the judge.

"Mary Coogan," was the clear answer.

"Your nationality?"

"I am an American."

"You have lived a long time in France?"

"Yes. I came to France as a little girl."

"How did that happen?"

"My father died and--my mother married a second time."

Her voice broke, but she shot a swift glance at the prisoner and seemed to gain strength.

"Your mother married a Frenchman?"

"Yes."

"What is the name of the Frenchman whom your mother married?"

The girl hesitated, and then looking straight at the baron, she said: "The Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck."

There was something in the girl's tone, in her manner, in the fearless poise of her head, that sent a shiver of apprehension through the audience.

Every man and woman waited breathless for the next question. In their absorbed interest in the girl they scarcely looked at the aristocratic visitor.

"Is your mother living?"

"No."

"How did she die?"

Again the witness turned to Kittredge and his eyes made her brave.

"My mother was burned to death--in the Charity Bazaar fire," she answered in a low voice.

"Were you present at the fire?"

"Yes."

"Were you in danger?"

"Yes."

"State what you remember about the fire."

The girl looked down and answered rapidly: "My mother and I went to the Charity Bazaar with the Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck. When the fire broke out, there was a panic and we were held by the crush. There was a window near us through which some people were climbing. My mother and I got to this window and would have been able to escape through it, but the Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck pushed us back and climbed through himself."

"It's a lie!" cried the baron hoa.r.s.ely, while a murmur of dismay arose from the courtroom.

"Silence!" warned the clerk.

"And after that?"

The girl shook her head and there came into her face a look of terrible sadness.

"I don't know what happened after that for a long time. I was very ill and--for years I did not remember these things."

"You mean that for years you did not remember what you have just testified?"

"Yes, that is what I mean."

The room was so hushed in expectation that the tension was like physical pain.

"You did not remember your mother during these years?"

"No."

"Not even her name?"

She shook her head. "I did not remember my own name."

"But now you remember everything?"

"Yes, everything."

"When did you recover your memory?"

"It began to come back a few weeks ago."

"Under what circ.u.mstances?"

"Under circ.u.mstances like those when--when I lost it."

"How do you mean?"

"I--I--" She turned slowly, as if drawn by some horrible fascination, and looked at De Heidelmann-Bruck. The baron's face was ghastly white, but by a supreme effort he kept an outward show of composure.

"Yes?" encouraged the judge.

"I was in another fire," she murmured, still staring at the baron. "I--I nearly lost my life there."

The witness had reached the end of her strength; she was twisting and untwisting her white fingers piteously, while the pupils of her eyes widened and contracted in terror. She staggered as if she would faint or fall, and the guard was starting toward her when, through the anguished silence, a clear, confident voice rang out:

"_Alice!_"