The Bellamy trial

The red-headed girl sank into the seat in the middle of the first row with a gasp of relief. Sixth seat from the aisle—yes, that was right; the label on the arm of the golden-oa...

The red-headed girl was late. The clock over the courtroom door said three minutes past ten. She flung herself, breathless, into the seat next to the lanky young man and inquire...

“Oh, I knew I would be—I knew it!” moaned the red-headed girl crawling abjectly over three irritated and unhelpful members of the Fourth Estate, dropping her pencil, dropping he...

“I always want a pencil,” said the red-headed girl. “And I beat everybody to it. I’d rather get here at six o’clock than go through that howling mob of maniacs one single time m...

“He couldn’t look so cocky and triumphant and absolutely sure of himself as that if he didn’t actually know that everything was all right,” explained the red-haired girl in a re...

I’ve ever seen on a human being. We were at the station about ten minutes, and I looked at my watch just as we left. It said twenty minutes past nine.”

The reporter looked from the clock to the red-headed girl and back again, with an expression in which consternation and irritation were neatly blended. The red-headed girl’s hat...

“I think that it was Stephen’s idea, but I’m not absolutely sure. I was at my wit’s end by this time, you see. But I believe that it was Steve who suggested that maybe she had b...

The red-headed girl had not realized how tired she was until she heard Ben Potts’s voice. He stood there as straight as ever, but where were the clear bugle tones that summoned...