The jury smiled, the spectators laughed, the gavel fell for order, and Mr. Wiley sat down. He had told Lydia that a jury, like an audience, loves those who make them laugh, and he sat down with an air of success. But Lydia, watching them more closely, was not so sure. As O'Bannon rose she noted the extreme gravity of his manner, his look at the jury, which seemed to say, "A man's life--a woman's liberty at stake, and you allow a mountebank to make you laugh!" It was only a look, but Lydia saw that they regained their seriousness like a lot of schoolboys when the head master enters. "Call Alma Wooley," said O'Bannon. Alma Wooley, the last witness for the People, was the girl to whom Drummond had been engaged. A little figure in the deepest mourning mounted the stand, so pale that she looked as if a strong ray would shine clear through her, and though her eyes were dry, her voice had the liquid sound that comes with much crying. Many of the jury had known her when she worked in her father's shop. She testified that her name was Alma Wooley, her age nineteen, that she lived with her father. "Miss Wooley," said O'Bannon, "you were sent for to go to the hospital on the eleventh of this March, were you not?" An almost inaudible "Yes, sir," was the answer. "You saw Drummond before he died?" She bent her head. "How long were you with him?" She just breathed the answer, "About an hour." Juror Number 6 spoke up and said that he could not hear. The judge in a loud roar--offered as an example--said, "You must speak louder. You must speak so that the last juror can hear you. No, don't look at me. Look at the jury." Thus admonished, Miss Wooley raised her faint, liquid voice and testified that she had been present while Drummond was making his statement. "Tell the jury, what took place." "I said----" Her voice sank out of bearing. Wiley sprang up. "Your Honor, I must protest. I cannot hear the witness. It is impossible for me to protect my client's interests if I cannot hear." The stenographer was directed to read his notes aloud, and he read rapidly and without the least expression: "Question: 'Tell the jury what took place.' Answer: 'I said, "Oh, Jack, darling, what did they do to you?" And he said, "It was her, dear. She got me after all."'"