Several of them were looking directly at Gracie, which was supposed to be a good sign for a defendant. I decided to take it that way and said a hopeful little prayer.

The judge intoned, “How find you in the matter of murder against Grace Johnson?”

The foreman rose in a deliberate manner, then in a strong, clear voice he said, “We the jury find the defendant guilty as charged.”

The courtroom erupted with exclamations, some sobs, even an ugly smattering of applause.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“I will have order in my court,” said the judge. Damned if I didn’t see a smile flash across Judge Warren’s face before he managed to swallow it.

I slid my arms around Gracie. One of us was trembling, and I realized it was me. My eyes, not hers, were brimming with hot tears.

“It be all right, Mr. Corbett,” she said quietly.

“It isn’t all right, Gracie. It’s a disgrace.”

Two D.C. blueboys were heading our way, coming to take her back to jail. I motioned for them to give us a moment.

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Corbett,” Gracie said. “Jesus works in mysterious ways.”

“God bless you, Gracie. We’ll file an appeal.”

“Thank you, Mr. Corbett. But now I got to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

She leaned close to me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I done the crime.”

“What?”

“I done the crime.”

“Gracie!”

“I got five chillun, Mr. Corbett. That old lady, she don’t pay me hardly nothing. I needed money. So I meant to take the silver.”

“And… what happened?”

“I was coming through the dining room with the silver chest in my hands. Miz Davenport walk in. She ’posed to be having a nap. Well, she screamed at me like she the devil. Then she come a-running at me.”

Gracie was composed, very calm, almost in a trance as she spoke to me.

“I had the bone-handle carving knife in my hand. Not for her-I don’t know, just in case of something. When she run at me, I turned. She run straight up on that knife, sir. I swear I never meant to do it.”