“I went through high school,” he replied. “I worked my way through doing janitor-work. I wanted to go through the university. But my father died, and I came to work in the mills.
“I wanted to become a naturalist,” he explained shyly, as though confessing a weakness. “I love animals. But I came to work in the mills. When I was promoted to foreman I got married, then the family came, and . . . well, I wasn’t my own boss any more.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I was explaining why I testified at the trial the way I did—why I followed instructions.”
“Whose instructions?”
“Colonel Ingram. He outlined the evidence I was to give.”
“And it lost Jackson’s case for him.”
He nodded, and the blood began to rise darkly in his face.
“And Jackson had a wife and two children dependent on him.”
“I know,” he said quietly, though his face was growing darker.
“Tell me,” I went on, “was it easy to make yourself over from what you were, say in high school, to the man you must have become to do such a thing at the trial?”
The suddenness of his outburst startled and frightened me. He ripped29 out a savage oath, and clenched his fist as though about to strike me.
“I beg your pardon,” he said the next moment. “No, it was not easy. And now I guess you can go away. You’ve got all you wanted out of me. But let me tell you this before you go. It won’t do you any good to repeat