I
'Yes.
'No doubt about it-that's it.'
He asked each man in turn and each answered the same.
'Dirk. ' Sean came last to him. He asked it slowly and heavily.
Looking into the clear innocent eyes of his son. 'As God is your
witness-did Norman Van Eek draw this knife on you?'
Please, my son, deny it now. Say it so they all can hear you.
If you value my love-tell me the truth now. Please, Dirk, please.
All this he tried to say, tried to convey it with the sheer force of
his gaze.
'As God is my witness, Pa,' Dirk answered him and was silent again.
'You have not answered,' Sean insisted. Please, my son.
'He drew that knife from the hip pocket of his overalls-the blade was
closed. He opened it with the thumbnail of his left hend, Pa,'
Dirk explained softly. 'I tried to kick it out of his hand, but hit
his chest instead. He fell onto his back and I saw him raise the knife
as though he were going to throw it. I hit him with the stool. It was
the only way I could stop him. ' All the passion went out of Sean's
face. It was stony and hard.
'Very well, ' he said. 'We'd better get home now.' Then he addressed
the rest of the bar-room. 'Thank you, gentlemen.'
And he walked out through the door to the Rolls. Dirk followed him
meekly.
The next afternoon Dirk Courtney was released by the local magistrate
into his father's custody on bail of fifty pounds, pending the visit of
the Circuit Court two weeks later, when he was to stand trial on a
charge of manslaughter.
His case was set down at the head of the Court list. The whole
district attended the old, packing the tiny Courthouse and clustering
at each of its windows.
After a retirement of seven minutes the jury brought back its verdict
and Dirk, walking out of the dock, was surrounded by the laughing,
congratulating crowd and borne out into the sunlight.
In the almost deserted Courtroom Sean did not rise from his seat in the
front row of chairs. Peter Aaronson, the defence lawyer Sean had
imported from Pieten-naritzburg, shuffled his papers into his
briefcase, made a joke with the Registrar, then walked across to
Sean.
'In and out again in seven minutes already-that's one for the record
book. ' When he smiled he looked like a koala bear.
'Have a cigar, Mr. Courtney. ' Sean shook his head and Peter thrust a
disproportionately large cigar into his own mouth and lit it.
'I tell you truly, though, I was worried by the knife business. I
expected trouble there. I didn't like that knife.'
'No more did I, ' Sean agreed softly, and Peter held his head on one
side examining Sean's face with bright, birdlike eyes.
'But I liked those witnesses-a troupe of performing seals.
'Bark,' you say to them-Woof! Woof! Just like magic. Someone trained
