The Washington times., 1933-08-03

lowed SO swiftly upon Cne uea
Upon the gray pail of grief,
into the home where death had
struck, into the simple visits Of
the neighbors, of her family,
that tide began to rise around
Jessie Costello and as she sat
upon the witness stand fight
ing for her life you can tell
how terrible it was to her by
the way she Whitens under the
memory of it and the way her
lips quiver and are brought to
rest only by a supreme effort
OF her will.
Her Hands Keep Moving
Her hands will not be still as
she speaks of it. They twist and
turn as though seeking comfort
from each other. And as the
questioning goes on and on,
over every tiny detail of those
dreadful days she grows weary
as a swimmer breasting the tide
and you can see how tired she
IS.
Once. though she did not
speak aloud, if you were watch
ing her you could almost hear
the protest of her spirit:
81 can't go On-I can't go
over and over that terrible
time-I can't"
But she has to-and does.
Bill was dead. You saw it all
that morning when confusion
reigned in the small house. When
suddenly everything that was Or
dinary and peaceful changed. The
cleaning WON man-the candy
woman-little Bobby playing in
the kitchen while his mother went
about her duties.
Then death-and it's old, sad
story.
Only So in House
The neighbors coming in. Plans
about the funeral. What Bill
should wear in his casket. Where
he should be buried-beside Jes-
sizes mother whom he had adored,
or beside his own family in the
Catholic cemetery.
The horrible questions Of ex-
penSe-Where was the money
coming from. There was only So
in the house-the SO that had
been in Bills pocket. A sad, sor-
did, commonplace tale it was. The
ugliness of death. The things that
must be done, no matter what
the grief that breaks hearts. The
confusion of those first hours.
~Then-the detectives to see Jes-
sic Costello.
What for?
Oh, just wanted to ask her a
few questions.
Asked About Poison
What did that mean to her,
that first entrance of the majestic
forces of the law, that first sud-
den hint of something wrong, that
scarlet flash across the blackness
of grief?
Did her heart stop beating at
the mere thought? Did she
realize that already they had dis
covered her? Was that first
casual appearance of policeman
into her life like a knife straight
through her heart?
Or was she just surprised, just
a little beWildered, not dreaming
Of the martyrdom ahead?
The tide grew. Two detectives
came to her house and sat in the
little den where Bill used to sit,
and they said to her:
"IS there any poison in this
hOuse?"
AS she repeated that converse
tion, the restless hands grew sud
denly still. 1t had come. That
question of poison had come.
And while she sat in the little
den, facing the two officers, one
Of them had looked at her and
said:
'This is pretty serious bust
ness, young lady"
One Couldn't Tell
A pretty business it was to be.
Murder. A murder charge, that
was to place her behind bars and
put her on trial for her life. How
swiftly it had come.
But you couldn't tell from
the weary face and the hands
that showed whitened knuckleS
whether it had been a horrible
realization that her crime had
been discovered or whether it
had been the first step in long
martyrdom of false accusation.
If she is lying, what burning
fear that one false word may be-
tray her into the hangman'S
hands.
AS she talks we know so much
and so little.
We know that Bill Costello
didn't like doctors and hated a
fuss when he was i'll.
We know that Jessie Costello
had a strong box in which she put
the money she collected for the
unemployed and that she kept the
key hidden under a candlestick.
Her Child Wasn't Well
We know that Sis, her little
girl, wasn't very well and had to
get UP often in the night and that
Jessie Costello always heard her.
We know that sometimes when
she took her little girls to church
Of o Sunday morning, she stopped
and Oick1d up Ed Mcmahon