Under skilful questioning by Albert Rich the facts were developed that it would have been possible for any one who knew that the money was there to have entered the hall quietly, either at the front or side door, and taken it away. In rebuttal the Morelands were prompt with the evidence that no one knew that the money was in the house except Junior and his father, both of whom were occupied at the bank at the time of its disappearance, and the people who had been in the Moreland home, each of whom could be accounted for. Mahala’s lawyer made much of the fact that the money could not be found upon her or in her home, and that she had not been from the sight of the Junior Mrs. Moreland except for the minute when she had laid the finished hat beside the coat. Anticipating this testimony, Martin Moreland had packed the front seats of the courtroom with his followers. At this statement all of them laughed immoderately. There was confusion in the court. Mahala turned deliberately, and so standing, she slowly searched the room filled with faces on not one of which could she find real sympathy, compassion, or comfort save on the agonized white face of Jason gazing up at her. Then she studied the jury, man by man, and as she did so, she realized that the power and the wealth of Martin Moreland had been lavished upon it. She turned to the judge, who had been a friend of her father, with whose children she had played, and who had known her all her life. Unexpectedly, she flashed at him the question: “Judge Staples, do you truly believe that I stole that money?” The judge leaned toward her with tears in his eyes. He answered: “What I truly believe, Mahala, can be of no earthly value to you now. The only thing that can help you here with this accusation against you, is for the prosecutor to fail in proving that you took it.” Mahala cried to him: “You know I cannot prove that I did not take it; but you know equally as well that he cannot prove that I did.” Sorrowfully the old judge said: “In order to be cleared of this charge, Mahala, the prosecutor _must_ fail to prove that you took the money.” Her head bowed, Mahala stood thinking. Finally she said to the judge and to the jury: “So far as I know, I am quite helpless. I have no proof to offer other than my own word. If you will not accept that I seem to be at your mercy. I beg that you will get through with this in the speediest manner possible.” The judge closed the case by instructing the jury on the subject of “reasonable doubt” and sent them to agree on a verdict. After a day’s deliberation a verdict of disagreement was rendered. That jury had contained one man whom Martin Moreland dared not approach, a man who had convictions, and was above a price. He had obstinately refused to agree to finding Mahala guilty. He roundly scored the other men for their lack of penetration, of mercy, of honesty.