Yollop eBook

George Barr McCutcheon
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 95 pages of information about Yollop.

Witness, pointing to Smilk:  “That’s him over there.”

The State:  “You mean the prisoner at the bar, otherwise known as
Cassius Smilk?”

Witness.  “Yes, sir.  That’s my husband.”

The State:  “You are sure about that?”

Witness:  “Of course, I am.  I wouldn’t be likely to make any mistake about a man I’d lived with for nearly six months, would I?  I’ve got my marriage certificate here with me, if you want to see it.”

Mrs. Smilk, in the first row, venomously addressing Mr. Smilk:  “So that’s what you was up to when you was out for six months and never come near me once, you dirty—­”

All bailiffs in unison:  “Silence!  Order in the court!”

The State, presently:  “Was he a good, kind, devoted husband to you,
Mrs. Morton?”

Witness:  “Well, if you mean did he provide me with clothes and jewels and gewgaws and all such, yes.  He was always bringing me home rings and bracelets and necklaces and things.  But if you mean did he ever give me any money to buy food with and keep the flat going, no.  I slaved my head off to get grub for him all the time we were living together.”

The State:  “Did he ever mistreat you?”

Witness:  “Oh, once in a while he used to give me a rap in the eye, or a kick in the slats, or something like that, but on the whole he was pretty sensible.”

The State:  “Sensible?  In what way?”

Witness:  “I mean he was sensible enough not to punch his meal ticket too often.”

It is not necessary to go any farther into the direct examination of Mrs. Elsie Morton, nor into the half-hearted efforts of Smilk’s disgusted lawyer to shake her in cross-examination.  Nor is it necessary to introduce here the testimony of Mrs. Jennie Finchley, who succeeded her on the stand.  It appears that Jennie was married in 1914 when Smilk was out for three months.  She supported him for several months in 1916,—­up to the time he packed up and left her on the morning of the fourteenth of June, that year.  As Herbert Finchley he not only managed to live comfortably off the proceeds of her delicatessen, but in leaving her he took with him nine hundred dollars that she had saved out of the business despite his gormandizing.


Despite the fact that the jury was out just a few minutes short of seven hours, it finally came in with a verdict “guilty as charged.”  Twice the devoted twelve returned to the court room for further instructions from the judge.  Once they wanted to know if it was possible to convict the prisoner for bigamy instead of burglary, and the other time it was to have certain portions of Mr. Yollop’s testimony read to them.  Immediately upon retiring an amicable and friendly discussion took place in the crowded, stuffy little jury room.  Eight men lighted black cigars, two lighted their pipes, one joyously, almost ravenously resorted to a package of “Lucky Strikes,” while the twelfth man announced that he did not smoke.  He had been obliged to give it up because of blood pressure or something like that.

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Yollop from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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