"Did this continue?"
"Yes."
"What followed?"
"This sort of thing happened several times at night. His room was next to mine and he sobbed violently during the night."
It was at this point that the grief-stricken mother first gave way to her overpowering emotion. Her face, which had been as gray as her hair when she entered the courtroom, flushed red and tears stole down her cheeks.
She wiped away the tears with a black-bordered handkerchief and continued her story in a hesitating manner. Her tones were so low that several of the jurors could not hear her.
"Had you proceeded to state that you had found your son as late as 3 or 4 in the morning awake and undressed?"
"No; I said he was dressed."
"And you had proceeded to state what he said?"
"He said that a man—probably the worst man in New York—had ruined his life."
"Had you made any inquiry of your son as to what that man had done?"
"He said the man had wrecked the life of a young girl."
"Did you learn more about that statement?"
"Yes. I could not learn who the girl was who was associated with this wicked man in New York."
