Now it was showtime.
“Call your next witness,” General Hunter said.
General Holt pointed to the guard standing outside the witness room. “Colonel Gordon Henly.”
Henly limped into the room, grimacing, dressed in a clean, pressed uniform complete with saber and revolver. However, his boots were scuffed and muddy. When he had shaved, he had missed the whiskers close to his ears. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was pinched, and he was breathing heavily. He did not look well.
“Please state your name and current position,” General Holt said.
Unkempt wavy brown hair flowed loose over his collar. “Colonel Gordon Henly, on special assignment to the War Department. I’m currently supervising the discharge of our troops.”
“How long have you been on special assignment?”
“Since I recovered from the wounds I sustained at Cedar Creek and my regiment was given to Colonel Taylor.”
“Are you familiar with the defendant, Jack Mallory?”
His upper lip twitched in disgust. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“Would you tell the court how you met the defendant?”
“I was on my way back to the War Department one afternoon in late December when I saw the defendant’s sister on the corner outside the Willard Hotel. She was sitting on her trunk, left in the cold by the degenerate Mr. Jack Mallory.”
“Objection,” Braham said. “The statement is inflammatory.”
“Sustained. The witness will refrain from characterizing the defendant,” General Hunter said.
“Doctor Charlotte Mallory was sitting unaccompanied in the cold while her brother attempted to secure transportation. I ordered my sergeant to stand guard over her luggage while I escorted her into the hotel, where I subsequently met her brother.”
“And what happened during the meeting at the Willard?”
“Doctor Mallory told me they were staying with her cousin, Major McCabe, and I offered to escort them to the major—excuse me, the colonel’s residence.”
“Did she indicate which one of the colonel’s residences she intended to visit?” General Holt asked.
The spectators’ questioning eyes glanced at Braham. His affluence hadn’t been mentioned in the press before. Several women smiled shyly. A handsome and wealthy bachelor was always of interest.
“Doctor Mallory and her brother intended to travel to the colonel’s residence in Georgetown. I asked why they weren’t staying in Washington. They were unaware of his townhouse across the street from Lafayette Park, so I escorted them there.”
“And did you have an occasion to recommend Mr. Mallory as a possible contributor to an editor at the Times?”
“Mr. Mallory gave me a copy of an article, an unpublished article he had written following the Battle of Cedar Creek. He asked me to show the article to editors I knew who might consider buying one of his stories.”
“And did you have an opportunity to show this article to anyone?”
“I did, and the editor at the Times agreed to read it. He said he would consider purchasing articles from Mr. Mallory.”
“And did Mr. Mallory ever sell any articles which you are aware of?”
Beads of sweat dotted Henly’s face, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “He has never sold one.”
“Objection. Calls for speculation. Unless the witness has read every newspaper around the world, he has no way of knowing how many articles Mr. Mallory has sold,” Braham said.
“Objection sustained. Your testimony is limited to your personal knowledge, Colonel,” General Hunter said. “Continue.”
General Holt picked up a sheet of paper and glanced at it briefly. “Tell us about the events of the evening in early February, when you attended the theater with Doctor Mallory.”
“Doctor Mallory agreed to accompany me to see the comedian J. S. Clarke. After the theater, we had dinner at the Willard, and then I took her back to Colonel McCabe’s residence.”
“And what happened when you arrived at the colonel’s residence?”
“Doctor Mallory and I were standing in the foyer when Mr. Mallory and Mr. Booth came out of one of the rooms, laughing and talking about an event in April. The men were in high spirits until they saw me. They immediately sobered and made quick introductions. Mr. Mallory and Mr. Booth then left. Shortly afterward, I said good night to Doctor Mallory and left.”
“Did you have an opportunity to see the Mallorys on other occasions?”
Henly’s eyes brightened. “I did. They attended the inaugural party. They approached me.” He glanced down at his nails and picked at them, as if the topic of discussion was painfully distasteful. “I felt uncomfortable and escaped their company as quickly as possible.”
General Holt set the sheet of paper aside and accepted another sheet from General Hunter. He perused it quickly. “Did you notice anything particular about their demeanor during the inaugural evening?”
“They spent an inordinate amount of time staring at President Lincoln and talking behind Dr. Mallory’s open fan.”
“Thank you, Colonel. No further questions.”
“Your witness, Colonel McCabe,” General Hunter said.
Braham sat still as calm water for a long moment. Then he pushed his chair back, scraping the legs across the hardwood floor. He stood, smoothed down his jacket, and approached the witness stand at a leisurely pace. “Colonel, what did ye and Doctor Mallory discuss over dinner at the Willard the night in February?”
“We talked about the show, I believe.”
“Were ye fond of Doctor Mallory?”
Henly flipped his hand in dismissal and rolled his eyes in disgust. “Not as fond as she was of me.”
“Why not? She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman.”
“Much too strong-willed for me. She lacks discipline.”
Braham folded his arms and his mouth twitched in what might have been a faint smile. “She’s a surgeon, and she lacks discipline? Would ye be more specific?”
Despite Henly’s obvious efforts at self-control, his frame was quivering with indignation. “She told me medicine was the most important thing in her life and she never intended to marry.”
Cullen was as enthralled with the testimony as was the rest of courtroom, which usually buzzed with side conversations. Now every eye and ear was focused on the exchange between Henly and Braham. Newspaper reporters were madly scribbling.
Braham shrugged. “Why
