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the name.” Braham kept his face impassive.

Stroker was rather flushed, and he said loudly, “James Pumphrey.”

“Do ye know if Mr. Pumphrey has any connection to this case?”

Stroker gripped the railing, released his fingers, then gripped again and again. “He rented Booth the horse he rode the night of the shootin’. But I wasn’t working for him then.” Stroker’s excuses spilled out so quickly his statement sounded like one long word.

“I believe ye testified yer employer before Howard was Pumphrey. If ye weren’t working for either of those men the night in question, then who were ye working for?”

“I was driving for several people.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Stroker, that ye were driving for only one customer?”

Stroker went pale and his eyebrows shot up. “No.”

“Maybe ye have yer dates confused, and ye were driving for Mr. Howard. Is that correct?”

The spectators were leaning forward in their seats now.

“No, he done fired me.”

“Then who?” Braham hissed, low voiced but emphatic. “Mr. Stroker, who were ye working for?”

Stroker gnawed on his lower lip. His eyes flitted between Braham and General Holt. “I was drivin’ fer Colonel Henly.”

“Colonel Gordon Henly?” Braham asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Gasps erupted from the spectators. The buzz turned into a loud rumbling which quieted with Braham’s next question. “How long had ye been driving for the colonel?”

“Since last year.”

“So, in the last year, ye didn’t work for either Mr. Pumphrey or Mr. Howard. Is this yer testimony?”

“No. I mean—” Stroker broke off in the middle of the sentence and shot Braham a startled look. “Yes. It’s what I mean to say.”

“Ye testified earlier ye drove Mr. Mallory and Mr. Booth to the National Hotel. Did ye have other fares that evening?”

“Yes,” Stroker said, his eyes cast down.

“And who did ye pick up?”

“I drove the colonel to the theater.”

“Was he alone?”

Stroker’s lips trembled. He compressed them briefly before saying, “He was with a lady.”

“After the theater, where did ye take them?”

“To dinner at the Willard Hotel.”

“After dinner, where did they ask to be taken?”

“To a residence—” Stroker stopped, appearing to consider his next statement. Apparently, he found no alternative but to tell the truth. “A residence across from Lafayette Park.”

Braham’s eyebrows rose for effect. “Is it the same location where ye testified earlier ye picked up the defendant and Mr. Booth?”

Stroker nodded.

“Speak up, Mr. Stroker. The court reporter can’t hear nods,” Braham said with a hint of wry humor.

Cullen kept his eyes on the commissioners. No one needed to cup their ears to hear. Braham’s booming voice carried clearly throughout the courtroom.

“Yes, the same location.”

Many of the spectators whispered to each other.

“Is there anything about yer previous testimony ye would like to change at this time?”

Stroker, blinking, glanced between Braham and General Holt. “I might have been mistaken about my passengers.”

General Holt’s arm rested on the table at his side. His fist opened and closed repeatedly.

“So,” Braham said, “would ye like to tell the court who ye actually picked up that night and where ye delivered them?”

Stroker ran a hand over his hair, looking around the room like a ferret searching for an escape route. “After the colonel dropped the lady off, I took the colonel and Mr. Mallory to the Willard.”

Without a twitch or a blink, Braham said, “Thank ye, Mr. Stroker. No further questions.”

“General Holt, do you have further questions of the witness?” General Hunter said.

“Yes, I do. Mr. Stroker, why did you testify you picked up Mr. Booth?”

“Well, sir,” Stroker said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The Booth fella, he came out of the house where the colonel and the lady had gone, and he asked for a ride.”

“And did you give him one?”

“No, sir. I told him I was waiting for the colonel. He said thank you and walked on down the street. Real nice like.”

“No further questions.” Dejection was as clear in Holt’s voice as it was on his face.

“Do you have further questions, Colonel McCabe?” General Hunter said.

Braham remained silent a moment, steepling his fingers. “Mr. Stroker, did ye hear either Colonel Henly or Mr. Mallory say anything during the ride to the Willard?”

“Yes, sir. The colonel said he’d been a fan of Mr. Booth’s for many years but had never met him.”

“And what did Mr. Mallory say?” Braham asked.

“He had no use for the man and didn’t intend to write a flattering article about him.”

“Thank ye. No further questions,” Braham said.

Holt stood. “One final question. You perjured yourself earlier in your testimony. How do we know you’re telling the truth now?”

“I guess you don’t, sir, but I got no reason to say nice things about Mr. Mallory if he’s done what you say he’s done. And the colonel told me if I was confused about what happened that night, then he’d remind me. Thing is…my memory is pretty good, but the colonel wanted me to remember what happened jes’ the way I told you first.”

Holt sat, shaking his head.

“Colonel McCabe, do you have further questions of the witness?” General Hunter’s voice held an exasperated tone.

“Mr. Stroker, is there anything else the colonel asked ye not to mention? Like what the two of ye were doing yesterday afternoon in Lafayette Park about three o’clock?”

“Objection. Beyond the scope of re-recross-examination,” Holt said.

The witness’s mouth dropped open. “Ah, ah…”

“No further questions,” Braham said, and strode back to their table.

91

Washington City, 1865

General Holt had a brilliant legal mind, and had been Lincoln’s chief arbiter and enforcer of military law. He knew not to ask a question if he didn’t already know the answer. Cullen and Braham had bet Holt wouldn’t ask Stroker what he and Henly had been doing at three o’clock on the previous afternoon. If he had asked, Braham and Cullen would have had to adjust their strategy, but as long as Henly was sequestered, they would still have the benefit of surprise during Henly’s cross-examination.

Since Gaylord had not sent a message, Cullen and Braham knew Henly wasn’t aware Charlotte had escaped. He was probably waiting until after his testimony to dispose of her. Just

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