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Produced by David Widger from page images generously | |
provided by the Internet Archive | |
THE LIGHT THAT LIES | |
By George Barr McCutcheon | |
The McClure Publications. Inc. | |
Copyright, 1916 | |
The Dodd Mead And Company, Inc. | |
CHAPTER I | |
Sampson had been uncommonly successful in evading jury service. By some | |
hook or crook he always had managed to “get off,” and he had begun | |
to regard his trips down to General or Special Sessions--coming with | |
monotonous regularity about three times a year--as interruptions instead | |
of annoyances. Wise men advised him to serve and get it over with for | |
the time being, but he had been so steadfastly resourceful in confining | |
his jury service to brief and uneventful “appearances,” and to | |
occasional examinations as to his fitness to serve as a juror, that he | |
preferred to trust to his smartness rather than to their wisdom. Others | |
suggested that he get on the “sheriff's jury,” a quaintly distinguished | |
method of serving the commonwealth in that the members perform their | |
duty as citizens in such a luxurious and expensive way that they | |
never appear in the newspapers as “twelve good men and true” but as | |
contributors to somewhat compulsory festivities in which justice is done | |
to the inner man alone. But Sampson, though rich, abhored the sheriff's | |
jury. He preferred to invent excuses rather than to have them thrust | |
upon him. | |
Having escaped service on half-a-dozen murder trials by shrewd and | |
original responses to important questions by counsel for one side or the | |
other--(it really didn't matter to Sampson which side it was so long as | |
he saw the loophole)--he found himself at last in the awkward position | |
of having exhausted all reasonable excuses, and was obliged to confess | |
one day in court that he had reconsidered his views in regard to capital | |
punishment. This confession resulted, of course, in his name being | |
dropped from the “special panel,” for the jury commissioner did not want | |
any man in that august body who couldn't see his way clear to taking | |
the life of another. He “got off” once on the ground that he was quite | |
certain he could not convict on circumstantial evidence, despite the | |
assurance of learned experts that it is the _best_ evidence of all, and | |
he escaped another time because he did not consider insanity a defence | |
in homicidal cases. | |
Then they drew him for Special Sessions and eventually for the | |
humiliating lower courts, the result being that his resourcefulness | |
was under a constant and ever increasing strain. Where once he had | |
experienced a rather pleasing interest in “getting off” in important | |
cases, he now found himself very hard put to escape service in the most | |
trifling of criminal trials. | |
He began to complain bitterly of the injustice to himself, an honest, | |
upright citizen who was obliged to live in a constant state of | |
apprehension. He felt like a hunted animal. He was no sooner safely out | |
of one case when he was called for another. | |
It was all wrong. Why should he be hounded like this when the city was | |
full of men eager to earn two dollars a day and who would not in | |
the least mind sitting cross-legged and idle all day long in a jury | |
box--snoozing perhaps--in order to do their duty as citizens? Moreover, | |
there were men who actually _needed_ the money, and there were lots | |
of them who were quite as honest as the prisoners on trial or even the | |
witnesses who testified. | |
He was quite sure that if he ever was sworn in as a juror, his entire | |
sympathy would be with the prisoner at the bar, for he would have a | |
fellow feeling for the unhappy wretch who also was there because he | |
couldn't help it. The jury system was all wrong, claimed Sampson. For | |
example, said he, a man is supposed to be tried by twelve of his peers. | |
That being the case, a ruffian from the lower East Side should be tried | |
by his moral and mental equals and not by his superiors. By the same | |
argument, a brainy, intelligent bank or railway president, an editor, | |
or a college professor, should not be tried by twelve incompetent though | |
perfectly honest window-washers. Any way you looked at it, the jury | |
system was all wrong. The more Sampson thought about it the more fully | |
convinced was he that something ought to be done about it. | |
He had been obliged to miss two weddings, a private-car jaunt to Aiken, | |
one of the Harvard-Yale football matches, the docking of the _Olympic_ | |
when she carried at least one precious passenger, the sailing of the | |
_Cedric_ when she carried an equally precious but more exacting object | |
of interest, a chance to meet the Princess Pat, and a lot of other | |
things that he wouldn't have missed for anything in the world | |
notwithstanding the fact that he couldn't remember, off hand, just what | |
they were. Suffice it to say, this miserable business of “getting off” | |
juries kept Sampson so occupied that he found it extremely difficult to | |
get on with anything else. | |
He was above trying to “fix” any one. Other men, he knew, had some one | |
downtown who could get them off with a word to the proper person, and | |
others were of sufficient importance politically to make it impossible | |
for them to be in contempt of court. That's what he called “fixing | |
things.” | |
Shortly after the holidays he was served with a notice to appear and be | |
examined as to his fitness to serve as juror in the case of the State | |
vs. James W. Hildebrand. Now, he had made all his arrangements for | |
a trip to California. In fact, he planned to leave New York on the | |
twenty-first of January, and here he was being called into court on the | |
twentieth. Something told him that the presiding justice was sure to be | |
one of those who had witnessed one or more of his escapes from service | |
on previous occasions, and that the honourable gentleman in the long | |
black gown would smile sadly and shake his head if he protested that | |
he was obliged to get off because he had to go to California for his | |
health. The stupidest judge on earth would know at a glance that Sampson | |
didn't have to go anywhere for his health. He really had more of it than | |
was good for him. | |
If he hadn't been so healthy he might have relished an occasional | |
fortnight of indolence in a drowsy, stuffy, little court-room with | |
absolutely nothing to do but to look at the clock and wonder, with the | |
rest of the jurors, how on earth the judge contrived to wake up from a | |
sound sleep whenever a point came up for decision and always to settle | |
it so firmly, so confidently, so promptly that even the lawyers were | |
fooled into believing that he had been awake all the time. | |
Sampson entered the little court-room at 9:50 o'clock on the morning of | |
the twentieth. | |
He was never to forget the morning of the twentieth. | |
Fifteen or twenty uneasy, sour-faced men, of all ages, sizes and | |
condition sat outside the railing, trying to look unconcerned. They | |
couldn't fool him. He knew what they were and he knew that in the | |
soul of each lurked the selfish, cruel prayer that twelve men would be | |
snatched from among them and stuffed into the jury box to stay before | |
the clerk could draw his own dreaded name from the little box at his | |
elbow. | |
Other men came in and shuffled into chairs. The deputy clerk of the | |
court emerged from somewhere and began fussing with the papers on his | |
desk. Every man there envied him. He had a nice job, and he looked as | |
though he rather liked being connected with an inhuman enterprise. He | |
was immune. He was like the man who already has had smallpox. Lazy court | |
attendants in well-worn uniforms ambled about freely. They too were | |
envied. They were thoroughly court-broken. A couple of blithe, alert | |
looking young men from the district attorney's office came and, with | |
their hands in their pockets, stared blandly at the waiting group, very | |
much as the judges at a live-stock show stare at the prize pigs, sheep | |
and cattle. They seemed to be appraising the supply on hand and, to | |
judge by their manner, they were not at all favourably impressed with | |
the material. Indeed, they looked unmistakably annoyed. It was bad | |
enough to have to select a jury in any event, but to have to select one | |
from _this_ collection of ignoramuses was--well, it was _too_ much! | |
The hour hand on the clock said ten o'clock, but everybody was watching | |
the minute hand. It had to touch twelve before anything, could happen. | |
Then the judge would steal out of his lair and mount the bench, while | |
every one stood and listened to the unintelligible barking of the | |
attendant who began with something that sounded suspiciously like | |
“Oy-yoy!” notwithstanding the fact that he was an Irish and not a Jewish | |
comedian. | |
Two uninteresting, anxious-eyed, middle-aged men, who looked a trifle | |
scared and uncertain as to their right to be there, appeared suddenly | |
inside the railing, and no one doubted for an instant that they were the | |
defendant's lawyers. Sampson always had wondered why the men from the | |
district attorney's office were so confident, so cocky, and so spruce | |
looking while their opponents invariably appeared to be a seedy, | |
harassed lot, somewhat furtive in their movements and usually labouring | |
under the strain of an inward shyness that caused a greasy polish of | |
perspiration to spread over their countenances. | |
Sampson was to find that these timid, incompetent looking individuals | |
had every reason in the world to be perspiring even so early in the | |
proceedings. They turned out to be what is known in rhetorical circles | |
as “fire-eaters” The judge took his seat and the clerk at once called | |
the case of the State vs. James W. Hildebrand. Sampson speculated. What | |
had Hildebrand done to get himself into a mess of this sort? Was | |
it grand or petit larceny, or was it house-breaking, entering, | |
safe-cracking, or--Two burly attendants came up the side aisle and | |
between them walked a gaunt, grey, stooped old man, his smooth shaven | |
face blanched by weeks of sunless existence. | |
Sampson had expected to see a sullen-faced, slouching young fellow, | |
shaved and brushed and combed into an unnatural state of comeliness for | |
the purpose of hoodwinking the jury into the belief that his life was as | |
clean as his cheek. He could not deny himself a stare of incredulity | |
on beholding this well-dressed, even ascetic looking man who strode | |
haltingly, almost timidly through the little gate and sank into the | |
chair designated by his counsel. Once seated, he barely glanced at his | |
lawyers, and then allowed his eyes to fall as if shame was the drawing | |
power. Somehow, in that instant, Sampson experienced the sudden | |
conviction that this man James W. Hildebrand was no ordinary person, for | |
it was borne in upon him that he despised the men who were employed to | |
defend him. It was as if he were more ashamed of being seen with them | |
than he was of being haled into a court of justice charged with crime. | |
The assistant district attorney in charge of the case addressed the | |
waiting talesmen, briefly outlining the case against the defendant, and | |
for the first time in his experience Sampson listened with a show of | |
interest. | |
James W. Hildebrand was charged with embezzlement. Judging by the | |
efforts of his counsel to have the case set over for at least ten | |
days and the Court's refusal to grant a delay, together with certain | |
significant observations as to the time that would probably be required | |
to produce and present the evidence--a week or more--Sampson realised | |
that this was a case of considerable magnitude. He racked his brain in | |
the futile effort to recall any mention of it in the newspapers. It was | |
his practice to read every line of the criminal news printed, for this | |
was the only means he had of justifying the declaration that he had | |
formed an opinion. Nothing escaped him--or at least he thought so--and | |
yet here was a case, evidently important, that had slipped through | |
without having made the slightest impression on him. It was most | |
disturbing. This should not have happened. | |
His heart sank as he thought of the California reservations uptown. | |
He was expected to take up the transportation and Pullman that very | |
afternoon. | |
The old man--he was seventy--was accused of having misappropriated | |
something like fifty thousand dollars of the funds belonging to a | |
real-estate and investment concern in which he was not only a partner | |
but also its secretary and treasurer. The alleged crime had been | |
committed some five years prior to the day on which he was brought to | |
trial. | |
After having evaded capture for four years and a half by secluding | |
himself in Europe, he voluntarily had returned to the States, giving | |
himself up to the authorities. Sampson abused himself secretly for | |
having allowed such a theatric incident as this to get by without notice | |
on his part. Other prospective jurors sitting nearby appeared to | |
know all about the case, for he caught sundry whispered comments that | |
enlightened him considerably. He realised that he had been singularly | |
and criminally negligent. | |
A protracted and confidential confab took place between the Court and | |
the counsel for both sides. Every juror there hoped that they were | |
discussing some secret and imperative reason for indefinitely postponing | |
the case after all--or, perhaps, better than that, the prisoner was | |
going to plead guilty and save all of them! | |
Finally the little group before the bench broke up and one of the | |
attorneys for Hildebrand approached the rail and held open the gate. A | |
woman entered and took a seat beside the prisoner. Sampson, with scant | |
interest in the woman herself--except to note that she was slender and | |
quite smartly attired--was at once aware of a surprising politeness | |
and deference on the part of the transmogrified lawyers, both of whom | |
smirked and scraped and beamed with what they evidently intended to be | |
gallantry. | |
The attorneys for the state regarded the lady with a very direct | |
interest, and smiled upon her, not condescendingly or derisively as is | |
their wont, but with unmistakable pleasure. A close observer would | |
have detected a somewhat significant attentiveness on the part of the | |
justice, a middle-aged gentleman whose business it was to look severe | |
and ungenial. He gave his iron-grey moustache a tender twist at each end | |
and placed an elbow on the desk in front of him, revealing by that act | |
that he was as human as any one else. | |
I have neglected to state that Sampson was thirty, smooth-faced, | |
good-looking, a consistent member of an athletic club and a Harvard man | |
who had won two H's and a _cum laude_ with equal ease. You will discover | |
later on that he was unmarried. | |
He was the seventeenth talesman called. Two jurors had been secured. The | |
other fourteen had been challenged for cause and, for the life of him, | |
he couldn't see why. They all looked pretty satisfactory to him. He | |
garnered a little hope for himself in the profligate waste of good | |
material. If he could sustain his customary look of intelligence there | |
was a splendid chance that he too would be rejected. | |
It seemed to him that the attendant in announcing his name and place | |
“of residence after the oath vociferated with unusual vehemence. Never | |
before had he heard his name uttered with such amazing gusto. | |
“You have heard the statement concerning the charge against the | |
defendant, Mr. Sampson,” said the assistant district attorney, taking | |
his stand directly in front of him. “Before going any farther, I will | |
ask if you know of any reason why you cannot act as a juror in this | |
case?” | |
Sampson had always been honest in his responses. He never had lied in | |
order to “get off.” Subterfuges and tricks, yes--but never deliberate | |
falsehood. | |
“No,” he answered. | |
“Have you heard of this case before?” | |
“No,” admitted Sampson, distinctly mortified. | |
“Then you have formed no opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the | |
defendant?” | |
“No.” | |
“Are you acquainted with the defendant, James W. Hildebrand?” | |
“No.” | |
“Have you had any business dealings with either of his counsel, Mr. | |
Abrams or Mr. O'Brien?” | |
“No.” | |
“Are you acquainted with either of his former partners, the gentlemen | |
who are to appear as witnesses against him, Thomas Stevens and John L. | |
Drew?” | |
Sampson's face brightened. “I know a John Drew,” he said. The lawyer | |
shook his head and smiled. “But he's not in the loan business,” he | |
added. | |
“Do you know Miss Alexandra Hildebrand, the granddaughter of this | |
defendant? The lady sitting beside him?” | |
[Illustration: 0029] | |
For the first time, Sampson directed his attention to the woman. His | |
glance, instead of being casual and perfunctory, as he had expected | |
it would be, developed into a prolonged stare that left him shy and | |
confused. She was looking into his eyes, calmly, seriously, and, he | |
thought, a bit speculatively, as if she were estimating his mental | |
displacement. As a matter of fact, she was merely detaching him from the | |
others who had gone before. He had the strange, uncomfortable feeling | |
that he was being appraised by a most uncompromising judge. His stare | |
was not due to resentment on his part because of her cool inspection. It | |
was the result of suddenly being confronted by the loveliest girl he had | |
ever seen--unquestionably the loveliest. | |
It seemed an affront to this beautiful, clear-eyed creature to say that | |
he did not know her. To say it to her face, too--with her eyes upon | |
him--why, it was incomprehensibly rude and ungallant. He ought to have | |
been spared this unnecessary humiliation, he thought. How would she | |
feel when he deliberately, coldly insulted her by uttering a bald, harsh | |
negative to the question that had been asked? | |
“I--I am afraid not,” he managed to qualify, hoping for a slight smile | |
of acknowledgement. | |
“Would you be inclined to favour the defendant because of his age, Mr. | |
Sampson?” | |
Sampson hesitated. Here was his chance. He looked again at Miss | |
Alexandra Hildebrand. She was still regarding him coolly, impersonally. | |
After all, he was nothing to her but a juror--just an ordinary, | |
unwholesome specimen undergoing examination. If he was rejected, he | |
would pass out of her mind on the instant and never again would he be | |
permitted to enter. He felt very small and inconsequential. | |
“Well, naturally, I suppose, I should be influenced to some extent by | |
his age,” he replied. | |
“You would, however, keep your mind open to the evidence in the case and | |
render a verdict according to that evidence? You would not discharge him | |
solely because he is an old man?” | |
“I don't know where my sympathy would carry me,” said Sampson evasively. | |
“I see. Well, if you should be accepted by both sides as a juror to sit | |
in this case you would at least try to divide your sympathy as fairly as | |
possible between us, wouldn't you? You would not deny the long-suffering | |
State of New York a share of your sympathy, would you?” | |
Miss Hildebrand, at that juncture, touched her grandfather on the arm | |
and whispered something in his ear. For the first time the old man | |
looked at the talesman in the chair. Sampson was acutely aware of a | |
sudden flash of interest in the prisoner's eyes. Moreover, the young | |
woman was regarding him rather less impersonally. | |
Sampson assumed an air of extreme hauteur “If I am accepted by both | |
sides in this case, my sympathy will be, first of all, with myself, | |
I am not eager to serve. I shall, however, do my best to render an | |
intelligent, just verdict.” | |
“According to the evidence and the law as laid down by the honourable | |
Court?” | |
“According to the circumstances as I see them.” | |
“That is not a direct answer to my question, Mr. Sampson.” | |
“I am not willing to say that I will be governed entirely by the | |
evidence. I can only say, that I should render what I consider to be a | |
just and reasonable verdict, depending on circumstances.” | |
“Ahem! You are quite sure that you could render a just and reasonable | |
verdict?” | |
“Yes.” | |
“And yet you admit that you cannot answer for your sympathies?” | |
“Are you cross-examining me?” | |
“Not at all, Mr. Sampson,” responded the other smoothly. “I am merely | |
trying to ascertain whether you are competent to serve as a juror in | |
this case.” | |
Sampson was saying to himself: “Thank the Lord, he will never accept | |
me.” Aloud he said: “Pray, overlook my stupidity and proceed--” | |
The Court leaned forward and tapped smartly on the desk with a lead | |
pencil. “We are wasting time, gentlemen. Please omit the persiflage.” | |
“Have you ever served as a juror in a criminal case, Mr. Sampson?” | |
inquired the lawyer. Sampson had turned pink under the Court's mild | |
irony. | |
“No,” he answered, and glanced at Miss Hildebrand, expecting to see a | |
gleam of amusement in her eyes. She was regarding him quite solemnly, | |
however. | |
“You are a Harvard man, I believe, Mr. Sampson?” | |
“Yes.” | |
“If it should be shown that this defendant is also a Harvard graduate, | |
would that fact serve to prejudice you in his favour?” | |
“Certainly not,” said Sampson, warmly. This was _too_ much! | |
“What is your business, Mr. Sampson?” | |
“I am connected with the Sampson Steamship and Navigation Company.” | |
“In what capacity?” | |
“I am its president.” | |
“You are, I believe, the son of the late Peter Stuyvesant Sampson, | |
founder of the company?” | |
“I am.” | |
“The only son?” | |
“And heir,” said Sampson curtly. “I inherited my job, if that's what you | |
are trying to get at. And it is more or less of an honorary position, if | |
that will help you any. I am president of the company because I happen | |
to own all but five shares of the capital stock, and not because I | |
really want to hold, or because I am in any sense competent to fill the | |
office. Now you know all that there is to know about my connection with | |
the company.” | |
“Thanks,” said the assistant district attorney, drily. “And now, Mr. | |
Sampson, could you sit as a juror in this case and give, on your honour | |
as a man, despite a very natural sympathy that may be aroused for this | |
aged defendant, a verdict in favour of the State if it is proved to you | |
beyond all doubt that he is guilty as charged?” | |
There was but one answer that Sampson could give. He felt exceedingly | |
sorry for himself. “Yes.” Then he made haste to qualify: “Provided, as I | |
said before, that there are no extenuating circumstances.” | |
“But you would not deliberately discharge a guilty man just because you | |
happened to feel sorry for him, would you? We, as individuals, are all | |
sorry for the person we are obliged to punish, Mr. Sampson. But the | |
law is never sorry. The mere fact that one man disregards the law is no | |
reason why the rest of us should do the same, is it?” | |
“Of course not,” said Sampson, feeling himself in a trap. | |
“The State asks no more of you than you would, as a citizen, ask of | |
the State, Mr. Sampson. The fact that this defendant, after five years, | |
voluntarily surrendered himself to the authorities--would that have any | |
effect on your feelings?” | |
“Yes, it would. I should certainly take that into consideration. As a | |
citizen, I could not ask more of any man than that he surrender himself | |
to my State if it couldn't catch him.” | |
The Court tapped with his pencil, and a raucous voice from somewhere | |
called for order. | |
“Are you a married man, Mr. Sampson?” | |
“I am not.” | |
“The State is satisfied,” said the assistant district attorney, and sat | |
down. | |
Sampson caught his breath. Satisfied? It meant that he was acceptable | |
to the State! After all he had said, he was acceptable to the State. He | |
could hardly believe his ears. Landed! Landed, that's what it meant. The | |
defence would take him like a shot. A cold perspiration burst out all | |
over him. And while he was still wondering how the district attorney | |
could have entrusted the case to such an incompetent subordinate, | |
counsel for the defence began to ply him with questions--perfunctory, | |
ponderous questions that might have been omitted, for any one with half | |
an eye could see that Sampson was doomed the instant the State said it | |
was satisfied. | |
His spirit was gone. He recognised the inevitable; in a dazed sort of | |
way he answered the questions, usually in monosyllables and utterly | |
without spunk. Miss Hildebrand was no longer resting her elbows on | |
the table in front of her in an attitude of suspense. She was leaning | |
comfortably back in her chair, her head cocked a little to one side, | |
and she gazed serenely at the topmost pane of glass in the tall window | |
behind the jury box. She appeared to be completely satisfied. | |
He saw the two lawyers lean across the table in consultation with the | |
prisoner and his granddaughter, their heads close together. They were | |
discussing him as if he were the criminal in the case. Miss Hildebrand | |
peered at him as she whispered something in her grandfather's ear, and | |
then he caught a fleeting, though friendly smile in her eyes. He | |
was reminded, in spite of his extreme discomfiture, that she was an | |
amazingly pretty girl. | |
“No challenge,” said the defendant's attorney, and Sampson was told to | |
take seat No. 3 in the jury box. | |
“Defendant, look upon the juror. Juror, look upon the defendant,” said | |
the clerk, and with his hand on the Bible Sampson took the oath to | |
render a true verdict according to the law and the evidence, all the | |
while looking straight into the eyes of the gaunt old man who stood and | |
looked at him wearily, drearily, as if from a distance that rendered his | |
vision useless. | |
Then Sampson sank awkwardly into the third seat, and sighed so | |
profoundly that juror No. 2 chuckled. | |
He certainly was in for it now. | |
CHAPTER II | |
You needn't pack,” said Sampson to his valet that evening. “I'm stuck.” | |
“Stuck, sir?” | |
“Caught on the jury, Turple. Landed at last. But,” he sighed, “I've | |
given 'em a good run though, haven't I?” | |
“You 'ave, sir. I dare say you will like it 'owever, now that you've | |
been stuck, as you say. My father, when he was alive, was very fond | |
of serving on the juries, sir. He was constantly being 'ad up in small | |
cases, and it was 'is greatest ham--ambition to get a whack at a good | |
'orrifying murder trial. I 'ope as 'ow you 'ave been stuck on a murder | |
case, sir. In England we--” | |
“It isn't a murder case. Merely embezzlement. But I must not discuss the | |
case, Turple, not even with you.” | |
“What a pity, sir. You usually consult me about any think that--” | |
“Call up the New York Central office at Thirtieth Street and cancel my | |
reservations, and lay out a blue serge suit for to-morrow.” | |
“Isn't it a bit coolish to be wearing a serge--” | |
“Those court-rooms are frightfully close, Turple. A blue serge.'' | |
“You look better in a blue serge than anythink you--” | |
“It is comfort, not looks, that I'm after, Turple,” explained Sampson, | |
who perhaps lied. | |
“Sets a man off as no other goods--I beg pardon, sir. I will call up the | |
booking office at once, sir. The blue serge, sir?” | |
“The blue serge,” said Sampson, brightly. “Anythink else, sir?” | |
Sampson grew facetious. “You might give me a shirt and a collar and a | |
necktie, Turple.” The man bowed gravely and retreated. His master, moved | |
by an increasing exhilaration, called after him: “I might also suggest a | |
pair of shoes and--well, you know what else I'm in the habit of wearing | |
in the daytime.” | |
Turple, knowing his master's feelings about jury service, was very much | |
amazed later on to hear him whistling cheerily as he made preparations | |
for a dinner engagement. The mere thought of a jury, heretofore, had | |
created in his master a mood provocative of blasphemy, and here he | |
was--actually “landed,” as he had put it himself--whistling as gaily as | |
a meadow lark. Turple shook his head, completely puzzled, for he also | |
knew his master to be a most abstemious man. In all his three years | |
of association with his employer he had never known him to take a | |
nip during the daytime, and that is what Turple called being most | |
abstemious. | |
The next morning Sampson, instead of hanging back aggrievedly as was | |
his wont, was in the court-room bright and early--(half an hour ahead of | |
time, in fact)--and he never looked fresher, handsomer or more full | |
of the joy of living. He passed the time of day with the attendants, | |
chatted agreeably with No. 2, who also came in early, and subsequently | |
listened politely to the worries of No. 5, a chubby-faced bachelor | |
who couldn't for the life of him understand why the deuce manicurers | |
persisted in cutting the cuticle after having been warned not to do so. | |
He rather pitied No. 7, who appeared in a cutaway coat a trifle too | |
small for his person and a very high collar that attracted a great deal | |
of attention from its wearer if from no one else. No. 7, he recalled, | |
had been quite indifferently garbed the day before: a shiny, well-worn | |
sack coat, trousers that had not been pressed since the day they left | |
the department store, and a “turndown” collar that had been through the | |
“mangle” no less than a hundred times--and should have been in one at | |
that instant instead of around his neck. No. 7 was also minus a three | |
days' growth of beard. | |
Everybody seemed bright and cheerful. There were still two more jurors | |
to be secured when court convened. Never in all his experience had | |
Sampson seen a judge on the bench who behaved so beautifully as this | |
one. He looked as though he never had had a grouch in his life, and as | |
if he really enjoyed listening to the same old questions over and over | |
again. Occasionally he interjected a question or an interpolation that | |
must have been witty, for he graciously permitted his hearers to | |
laugh with him; and at no time was he cross or domineering. His hair, | |
carefully brushed, was sleekly plastered into an enduring neatness, and | |
his moustache was never so smartly trimmed and twisted as it was on this | |
sprightly morning. One might have been led into believing that it was | |
not winter but early spring. | |
The deputy clerk had taken too much pains in shaving himself that | |
morning, for in his desire to scrape closely in the laudable effort | |
to curb the sandy growth on his cheek and chin, he had managed to do | |
something that called for the application of a long strip of pale pink | |
court-plaster immediately in front of his left ear. He was particular | |
about turning the other cheek, however, so that unless you walked | |
completely around him you wouldn't have noticed the court-plaster. The | |
attendants, noted for their untidiness, were perceptibly spruced up. If | |
any one of them was chewing tobacco, he managed to disguise the fact. | |
The only person in the court-room, aside from the prisoner himself, | |
who had not changed for the better over night, was Miss Alexandra | |
Hildebrand. She could not have changed for the better if she had tried. | |
When she took her seat beside her grandfather, she was attired as on the | |
day before. Her cool, appraising eyes swept the jury box. More than | |
one occupant of that despised pen felt conscious of his sartorial | |
rehabilitation. A faint smile appeared at the corners of her adorable | |
mouth. Even Sampson, the proud and elegant Sampson, wondered what there | |
was for her to smile at. | |
Being utterly disinterested in the composition of the jury of which he | |
was an integral part, Sampson paid not the slightest attention to the | |
process of rounding out the even dozen. While counsel struggled over the | |
selection of talesmen to fill the two vacant places, he devoted himself | |
to the study of Miss Hildebrand. This study was necessarily of a | |
surreptitious character, and was interrupted from time to time by the | |
divergence of the young lady's attention from the men who were being | |
examined to those already accepted. At such times, Sampson shifted his | |
gaze quickly. In two instances he was not quite swift enough, and she | |
caught him at it. He was very much annoyed with himself. Of course, she | |
would put him in a class with the other members of the jury, and that | |
was a distinction not to be coveted. They were very honest, reliable | |
fellows, no doubt, but Heaven knows they were not well-bred. No | |
well-bred man would stare at Miss Hildebrand as No. 4 was staring, and | |
certainly No. 7 was the most unmannerly person he bad ever seen. The | |
fellow sat with his mouth open half the time, his lips hanging limp in | |
a fixed fatuous smile, bis gaze never wavering. Sampson took the trouble | |
to dissect No. 7's visage--in some exasperation, it may be said. He | |
found that he had a receding chin and prominent upper teeth. Just the | |
sort of a fellow, thought Sampson, who was sure to consider himself | |
attractive to women. | |
Miss Hildebrand was twenty-four or -five, he concluded. She was neither | |
tall nor short, nor was she what one would describe as fashionably | |
emaciated. Indeed, she was singularly without angles of any description. | |
Her hair was brown and naturally wavy--at least, so said Sampson, poor | |
simpleton--and it grew about her neck and temples in a most alluring | |
manner. Her eyes were clear and dark and amazingly intelligent. Sampson | |
repented at once of the word intelligent, but he couldn't think of a | |
satisfactory synonym. Intelligent, he reflected, is a word applied only | |
to the optics of dumb brutes--such as dogs, foxes, raccoons and the | |
like--and to homely young women with brains. Understanding--that was the | |
word he meant to use--she had understanding eyes, and they were shaded | |
by very long and beautiful lashes. | |
Her chin was firm and delicate, her mouth--well, it was a mouth that | |
would bear watching, it had so many imperilling charms. | |
Her nose? Sampson hadn't the faintest idea how to describe a nose. | |
Noses, he maintained, are industrial or economic devices provided by | |
nature for the sole purpose of harbouring colds, and are either lovely | |
or horrid. There is no intermediate class in noses. You either have | |
a nose that is fearfully noticeable or you have one that isn't. A | |
noticeable nose is one that completely and adequately describes itself, | |
sparing you the effort, while the other kind of a nose--such as Miss | |
Hildebrand's--is one that you wouldn't see at all unless you made an | |
especial business of it. That sort of a nose is simply a part of one's | |
face. There are faces, on the other hand, as you know, that are merely a | |
part of one's nose. | |
His rather hasty analysis of yesterday was supported by the more | |
deliberate observations of to-day. She was a cool-headed, discerning | |
young woman, and not offensively clever as so many of her sex prove | |
to be when it is revealed to them that they possess the power to | |
concentrate the attention of men. Her interest in the proceedings was | |
keen and extremely one-sided. She was not at all interested in the men | |
who failed to come up to her notion of what a juror ought to be. It was | |
always she who put the final stamp of approval on the jurors selected. | |
Two or three times she unmistakably overcame the contentions of her | |
grandfather's counsel, and men got into the box who, without her | |
support, would have been challenged--and rightly, too, thought Sampson. | |
No. 7 for instance. He certainly was not an ideal juror for the | |
defendant, thought Sampson. And the fat little bachelor--why, he | |
actually had admitted under oath that he knew the district attorney | |
and a number of his assistants, and was a graduate of Yale. But Miss | |
Hildebrand picked him as a satisfactory juror. | |
Sampson's reflections--or perhaps his ruminations--were brought to an | |
end by the completion of the jury. The last man accepted was a callow | |
young chap with eye-glasses, who confessed to being an automobile | |
salesman. | |
They were sworn immediately and then the senior counsel for the State | |
arose and announced that he had no desire to keep the jury confined | |
during the course of the trial; the State was satisfied to allow the | |
members to go to their own homes over night if the defence had no | |
objections. Promptly the attorneys for the defendant, evidently scenting | |
something unusual, put their heads together and whispered. A moment | |
later one of them got up and said that the defence would take the | |
unusual course of asking that the jury be put in charge of bailiffs. He | |
did not get very far in his remarks, however. Miss Hildebrand's eyes had | |
swept the jury box from end to end. She observed the look of dismay that | |
leaped into the faces of the entire dozen. Sampson had a queer notion | |
that she looked at him longer than at the others, and that her gaze was | |
rather penetrating. An instant later she was whispering in the ear of | |
the second lawyer, and--well, they were all in conference again. After | |
a period of uncertainty for the victims, the first lawyer, smiling | |
benignly now, withdrew his motion to confine the jury, and graciously | |
signified that the defence was ready to proceed. | |
The first witness for the State was a Mr. Stevens. Sampson was sure from | |
the beginning that he wasn't going to like Mr. Stevens. He was a prim, | |
rather precious gentleman of forty-five, with a fond look in his eye | |
and a way of putting the tips of his four fingers and two thumbs together | |
that greatly enhanced the value of the aforesaid look. In addition to | |
these mild charms of person, he had what Sampson always described as | |
a “prissy” manner of speaking. No. 4 made a friend of Sampson by | |
whispering--against the rules, and behind his hand, of course--that he'd | |
like to “slap the witness on the wrist.” Sampson whispered back that | |
he'd probably break his watch if he did. | |
Anyhow, Mr. Stevens was recognised at once as the principal witness | |
for the State. He was the head of the company that had suffered by the | |
alleged peculations of Mr. Hildebrand. Ably assisted by the district | |
attorney, the witness revealed the whole history of the Cornwallis | |
Realty and Investment Company. | |
James Hildebrand was its founder, some thirty years prior to his | |
surreptitious retirement, and for the first twenty years of its | |
existence he was its president. At the end of that period in the history | |
of the thriving and honourable business, Mr. Stevens became an active | |
and important member of the firm through the death of his father, who | |
had long been associated with Mr. Hildebrand as a partner. The other | |
partners were John L. Drew, Joseph Schoolcraft, Henry R. Kauffman and | |
James Hildebrand, Jr., the son of the president. The business, according | |
to Mr. Stevens, was then being conducted along “back number” lines. It | |
became necessary and expedient to introduce fresh, vigorous, up-to-date | |
methods in order to compete successfully with younger and more | |
enterprising concerns. (On cross-examination, Mr. Stevens admitted | |
that the company was not making money fast enough.) The defendant, it | |
appears, was a conservative. He held out stubbornly for the old, obsolete | |
methods, and, the concern being incorporated, it was the wisdom of | |
the other members (Hildebrand, Jr., dissenting) that a complete | |
reorganisation be perfected. The witness was made president, Mr. Drew | |
vice-president, and Mr. Hildebrand secretary and treasurer, without bond. | |
His son withdrew from the company altogether, repairing to Colorado for | |
residence, dying there three years later. | |
The defendant, individually and apart from his holdings in the company, | |
owned considerable real-estate on Manhattan Island. His income, aside | |
from his salary and his share of profits in the business, was derived | |
from rentals and leaseholds on these several pieces of property. Values | |
in certain districts of New York fell off materially when business | |
shifted from old established centres and wended its fickle way | |
northward. Mr. Hildebrand was hard hit by the exodus. His investments | |
became a burden instead of a help and ultimately he was obliged to make | |
serious sacrifices. He sold his downtown property. The depreciation was | |
deplorable, Mr. Stevens admitted. | |
The former president of the company soon found himself in straitened | |
circumstances. He was no longer well-to-do and prosperous; instead, he | |
was confronted by conditions which made it extremely difficult for him | |
to retain his considerable interest in the business. The company at this | |
stage in the affairs of their secretary and treasurer, proffered help | |
to him in what Mr. Stevens considered an extremely liberal way. It was | |
proposed that Mr. Hildebrand sell out his interest in the company to the | |
witness and his brother-in-law, Mr. Drew, they agreeing to take all of | |
his stock at a figure little short of par, notwithstanding it was a very | |
bad year--1907, to be precise. | |
The defendant refused to sell. Subsequently he reconsidered, and they | |
took over his stock, excepting five shares which he retained for obvious | |
reasons, and he was paid in cash forty-four thousand dollars for the | |
remaining forty shares. Mr. Stevens already had purchased, at a much | |
higher price, the fifteen shares belonging to James Hildebrand, Jr. The | |
defendant was to retain the position of secretary and treasurer at a | |
fixed salary of six thousand dollars a year. | |
In brief--although the district attorney was a long time in getting it | |
all out of Mr. Stevens--it was not until 1908 that the bomb burst and | |
the company awoke to the fact that its treasury was being, or to put | |
it exactly, had been systematically robbed of a great many thousands | |
of dollars. Experts were secretly put to work on the books and after | |
several weeks they reported that at one time the total shortage had | |
reached a figure in excess of ninety-five thousand dollars, but that | |
this amount had been reduced by the restoration of approximately fifty | |
thousand dollars during a period covering the eleven months immediately | |
preceding the investigation. It was established beyond all question that | |
the clerks and bookkeepers in the office were absolutely guiltless, and, | |
to the profound distress of the directors, the detectives employed on | |
the case declared in no uncertain terms that there was but one man who | |
could explain the shortage. That man was the former president of this | |
old and reliable concern, James W. Hildebrand. | |
To avoid a scandal and also to spare if possible the man they all loved | |
and respected, Mr. Stevens was authorised by the other directors to | |
effect a compromise of some sort whereby the company might regain | |
at least a portion of the funds on the promise not to prosecute. The | |
defendant, however, had got wind of the discovery, and, to the utter | |
dismay of his friends, fled like a thief in the night. Mr. Stevens did | |
not have the chance to see him. | |
The defalcation was not made public for several weeks. An effort was | |
made to get in touch with the fugitive, in the hope that he could be | |
induced to return without being subjected to open disgrace, but he had | |
vanished so completely that at first it was feared he had made way with | |
himself. He was at the time a widower, his wife having died many years | |
before. His son James was the only child of that marriage, and he was | |
living--or rather dying, in Colorado. Private detectives watched the | |
home and the movements of the son for some weeks, hoping to obtain a | |
clue to the old man's whereabouts. | |
Then, out of a clear sky, as it were, came letters to each of the | |
stockholders, posted in Paris and written by the fugitive. In these | |
letters he made the most unfair charges against the witness and against | |
Mr. Drew. Without in any way attempting to explain, confess or express | |
regret for his own defection, he horrified both Mr. Stevens and Mr. Drew | |
with the staggering accusation that they had tricked him into selling | |
certain downtown property at an outrageously low figure, when they knew | |
at the time of the transaction that an insurance company had its eye on | |
the property with the view to erecting two mammoth office buildings | |
on the ground. Subsequent events, declared the writer, bore out his | |
contention, for it was on record that his two partners did sell to the | |
insurance company for nearly ten times the amount they had paid him for | |
the property; and, moreover, at that very moment two large buildings | |
were standing on the ground that had once been occupied by his ancient | |
and insignificant six story structures. | |
In so many words, this old defaulter (to use Mr. Stevens' surprisingly | |
acid words) deliberately sought to discredit them in the eyes of their | |
fellow-directors and stockholders. He accused them of foul methods and | |
actually had the effrontery to warn all those interested in the business | |
with them to be on their guard or they would be tricked as he had been. | |
(Note: One of these letters, now five years old, was introduced in | |
evidence as Exhibit A.) | |
Sampson afterwards found himself marvelling over the assistant district | |
attorney's stupidity in introducing this particular bit of evidence. It | |
was the cross-examination that opened his eyes to the atrocious mistake | |
the State had made in volunteering the evidence touching upon the | |
real-estate transaction. | |
This extraordinary behaviour on the part of the defendant quite | |
naturally irritated--(Mr. Stevens would not say infuriated, although Mr. | |
O'Brien, on cross-examination, tried his level best to make him use the | |
word)--both the witness and Mr. Drew, who felt that their honour | |
had been vilely attacked. They had no difficulty in convincing their | |
partners and other interested persons that the charge was ridiculous and | |
made solely for the purpose of enlisting their sympathy in behalf of one | |
they were now forced to describe as a cowardly criminal and no longer as | |
a misguided unfortunate. | |
It was then, and then only, that the witness and Mr. Drew took the | |
matter before the Grand Jury and obtained the indictment against the | |
defendant. | |
Having covered the preliminary stages of the case pretty thoroughly, | |
Mr. Stevens was required to tell all that he knew about the actual | |
misappropriation of the funds. This he did with exceeding clarity and | |
sorrow. However, despite his mildness, he did not leave a shred of Mr. | |
Hildebrand's honour untouched; he had it in tatters by mid-afternoon and | |
at four o'clock, when court adjourned, there wasn't anything left of it | |
at all. | |
Sampson was gloomy that night. He did not go to sleep until long after | |
two, although he went to bed at eleven--an unspeakably early hour for | |
him. Things certainly looked black for the old man. If Stevens was to | |
be believed, James Hildebrand was a most stupendous rascal. And yet, | |
to look at him--to study his fine, gentle old face, his tired but | |
unwavering eyes, his singularly unrepentant mien--one could hardly | |
be blamed for doubting the man's capacity for doing the evil and | |
reprehensible deed that was laid at his door. Sampson hated to think of | |
him as guilty. More than that, he hated to have Miss Hildebrand think | |
that he thought of him as guilty. | |
He laid awake for three mortal hours trying to think what Miss | |
Hildebrand meant by looking at him as she did from time to time. Not | |
once but a score of times her gaze met bis--usually after a damaging | |
reply by Mr. Stevens, or some objectionable question by the district | |
attorney--and always she appeared to be intent on divining, if possible, | |
just what its effect would be on him. | |
Her clear, soft eyes looked straight into his for an instant, and he saw | |
something in them that he took for anxiety. That was all: just anxiety. | |
It couldn't, of course, be anything else--and, why shouldn't she be | |
anxious? Anybody would be under the circumstances. As a matter of fact, | |
he was a little anxious himself, and certainly he was not as vitally | |
interested as she in the welfare of James W. Hildebrand. But after | |
thinking it all over again, he wasn't so sure that it was anxiety. He | |
was forced to believe that she looked confident, almost serene--as | |
if there was not the slightest doubt in her mind that her grandfather | |
couldn't possibly have done a single one of the things that Mr. Stevens | |
accused him of doing. | |
Sampson was perturbed. He couldn't divest himself of the suspicion that | |
she expected him to also disbelieve every word that the witness uttered. | |
It was most upsetting. He made up his mind that he would not look at her | |
at all on the following day. But even that resolution didn't put him to | |
sleep. Not at all. The more he thought of it, the wider awake he became. | |
True, she had looked at the other jurors from time to time--especially | |
at the rehabilitated No. 7, the rubicund bachelor and the spectacled No. | |
12. But he was sure that she did not look at them in the same way that | |
she looked at him, nor as often, nor as long. It seemed to him that even | |
when she looked at the others, she always allowed her glance to return | |
to him for an instant after its somewhat indifferent tour of inspection. | |
He remembered indulging in a rather close and critical inspection of | |
the countenances of his fellow jurors at one time, during a lull in the | |
proceedings, and that calculating but not unkind scrutiny convinced him | |
of one thing: they certainly were not much to look at. | |
The more he thought about it, the more it was revealed to him that the | |
expression in her eyes was of a questioning, inquiring nature, as | |
one who might be saying to herself: are these men--or this one, in | |
particular--entirely devoid of intelligence? | |
He was four minutes late in court the next morning, and it was all | |
the fault of the too indulgent Turple. Turple, being a sagacious and | |
faithful menial, respectfully neglected to disturb his master's slumber | |
until after nine o'clock, and as a result Sampson had to go without | |
his breakfast and almost without his shave in order to get down to the | |
court-room in time. Turple received emphatic orders to rout him out of | |
bed at seven o'clock every morning after that, no matter how bitterly he | |
was abused for doing so. | |
He was out of breath when he dropped into his chair in the jury box, | |
expecting and dreading a rebuke from the Court for his tardiness. | |
He glanced at Miss Alexandra Hildebrand, almost apologetically. It | |
certainly was not relief that he felt on discovering that she was paying | |
no attention whatever to him. She was engaged in consultation with the | |
two lawyers and did not even so much as glance in his direction when he | |
popped into his seat. | |
The justice was still on his good behaviour. He bowed politely to | |
Sampson and then looked at the clock. | |
The cross-examination of Mr. Stevens began. Sampson was agreeably | |
surprised by the astuteness, the suavity, the unexpected resourcefulness | |
of Mr. O'Brien, who questioned the witness. | |
“You say, Mr. Stevens, that James Hildebrand, Jr., retired from the | |
company about two years prior to the retirement of his father, the | |
defendant. Why did the younger Hildebrand retire?” | |
“He was not satisfied with the reorganisation.” | |
“Isn't it true that you and he were not on friendly terms and that he | |
refused to serve with you--” | |
“We object!” interrupted the district attorney. “The question is not--” | |
“Objection overruled,” said the Court testily. “Finish your question, | |
Mr. O'Brien, and then answer it, Mr. Witness.” | |
“We were not on friendly terms,” admitted Mr. Stevens, who looked | |
vaguely surprised on being addressed as “Mr. Witness.” | |
“And he preferred to get out of the company rather than to serve on the | |
board with you? Isn't that true?” | |
“I cannot answer that question. I can only say that he disposed of his | |
interests and retired.” | |
“Who purchased his stock?” | |
“Mr. Schoolcraft, one of the directors.” | |
“Who owns that stock to-day?” | |
“I do.” | |
“When did you purchase it of Mr. Schoolcraft?” | |
“I do not remember.” | |
“Was it a week, a month or a year after the original sale?” | |
“A couple of months, I suppose.” | |
“Do you know what Mr. Schoolcraft paid for that stock?” | |
“I do not.” | |
“You do know what you paid him for it, however?” | |
“I paid ninety-five and a fraction for it.” | |
“Didn't you buy twenty shares of Mr. Schoolcraft's stock at the same | |
time?” | |
“I did.” | |
“Did you pay ninety-five and a fraction for the Schoolcraft stock?” | |
“I think I paid a little more than that.” | |
“Didn't you pay one-twenty-seven for the Schoolcraft stock, Mr. | |
Stevens?” | |
“I may have paid that much. Mr. Schoolcraft was not eager to sell. He | |
held out for a stiff price.” | |
“He owned the Hildebrand stock, didn't he? Why should he sell fifteen | |
shares at ninety-five and a fraction when he might just as well have had | |
one-twenty-seven?” | |
“We object,” said the district attorney mildly. | |
“State your objection,” said the Court. “Incompetent and irrevelant and | |
having no possible bearing on the subject--” | |
“Withdraw the question,” said Mr. O'Brien suavely. “Did you not offer | |
James Hildebrand, Jr., one-ten for his stock, Mr. Stevens, through his | |
father? I say 'through his father' because you were not on speaking | |
terms with the son?” | |
“I think I did.” | |
“And didn't young Hildebrand send word that he wouldn't sell to you at | |
any price?” | |
“Something of the sort. He was unreasonable.” | |
“You were, therefore, very much surprised and gratified to get it at | |
ninety-five and a fraction from Mr. Schoolcraft later on, were you not?” | |
“I was not surprised,” confessed Mr. Stevens, separating his finger tips | |
for the first time, and shifting his position so that he could fold his | |
arms comfortably. “Mr. Schoolcraft bought the stock for me. There was no | |
secret about it. Hildebrand must have known that Schoolcraft was acting | |
for me. I was fair enough to offer him one-ten. It is not my fault that | |
he was eventually forced to sell fifteen points lower. I was not to | |
blame because he was hard-pressed or pinched for ready money.” | |
“He was a sick man, wasn't he?” | |
“His health was poor.” | |
“He was ordered to Colorado by his physicians, wasn't he?” | |
“I believe so.” | |
“And wasn't that the real reason why he was forced to sell out, and not | |
because he objected to the reorganisation?” | |
“We object,” said the Stated attorney. “Objection sustained.” | |
Sampson looked at Miss Hildebrand. Her gaze shifted from the Court to | |
him almost in the same instant, and it seemed to express astonishment, | |
even incredulity--as if she were saying (although he was sure she would | |
not have expressed herself so vulgarly): “Well, can you beat that!” | |
“And now, Mr. Stevens,” went on Mr. O'Brien, after taking the usual | |
exception, “you testified in direct examination that you and Mr. Drew | |
purchased the defendant's Manhattan property. Did you buy it for | |
the Cornwallis Realty and Investment Company, or for yourselves as | |
individuals?” | |
“We bought it for ourselves, as individuals.” | |
“The company was not interested in the transaction?” | |
“No.” | |
“Did you first give the company an opportunity to buy, or did you--” | |
“I said it was a private transaction. We have interests outside of | |
the company, sir--just as you have interests outside of your legal | |
business,” said the witness tartly. | |
“I see. Well, Mr. Hildebrand was pressed for money at the time of the | |
transaction, I believe you have said. This was some time before the | |
alleged defalcation took place, I understand.” | |
“A year and a half prior to our discovery of the theft,” corrected Mr. | |
Stevens. | |
“And you have testified that the so-called theft dated back even beyond | |
that, at its beginning.” | |
“So the expert accountants informed us. I have no means of knowing for | |
myself.'' | |
“And it was your conclusion that he sold his property in the effort to | |
rehabilitate himself before his misfortune was discovered?” | |
“I did not allude to it as a misfortune, sir.” | |
“Well, then, his crime.” | |
“I have said that such was my conclusion.” | |
“Will you again, state just what you paid for the property in question?” | |
“We paid two hundred thousand dollars for the two pieces.” | |
“Cash?” | |
“Part in cash and part in an exchange for property in the Bronx. Sixty | |
thousand in cash. The Bronx property is in the shape of building lots, | |
valued at more than two hundred thousand dollars.” | |
“Then or now?” | |
“Then _and_ now, sir.” | |
“State, if you know, does Mr. Hildebrand still own this Bronx property?” | |
“I believe it is in his name.” | |
“And it is still worth two hundred thousand dollars?” | |
“It is worth a great deal more, sir.” | |
“I see. Now, Mr. Stevens, you have testified that this defendant wrote | |
letters to the several members of your corporation, advising them that | |
you and Mr. Drew had sold this downtown property to an insurance | |
company for ten times as much as you paid him for it. Was Mr. Hildebrand | |
uttering the truth when he made that assertion?” | |
“Am I obliged to answer that question, your Honour?” | |
“Yes. It is a very simple question,” said the Court drily, giving his | |
moustache a gentle twist. | |
“We received one million eight hundred thousand for the property,” said | |
Mr. Stevens, defiantly. | |
“Cash?” | |
“Yes.” | |
“You didn't take any Bronx property in exchange?” | |
“Certainly not.” | |
“How long was this after the time you purchased the property?” | |
“About two years.” | |
“Isn't it true that you were offered a million dollars for the property | |
two weeks after you bought it?” | |
“What has all this got to do with the case?” | |
“You can say yes or no, can't you, Mr. Stevens?” | |
“I shall say no, then. We were approached by persons representing the | |
insurance company, but they made no bona fide offer.” | |
“They asked you if a million would tempt you, though, didn't they?” | |
“I don't remember.” | |
“In any event, you told them that you held the property at two millions, | |
didn't you? That was your price?” | |
“It was our price, yes.” | |
“And you held off selling until they finally came to your terms--or | |
nearly up to them--and then you sold?” | |
“We sold when we were ready, Mr. O'Brien.” | |
“I see. Did you know before purchasing Mr. Hildebrand's property that | |
this insurance company was desirous of buying it for building purposes?” | |
“Object!” interposed the district attorney. “Objection sustained,” said | |
the Court. | |
Again Sampson, who was enjoying Mr. Stevens' discomfiture, looked at | |
Miss Hildebrand. Simultaneously eleven other gentlemen sitting in two | |
parallel rows, looked at her. She may have found it too difficult to | |
look at all of them at once, so she confined her gaze to Sampson, who | |
felt in duty hound--as a juror sworn to be fair and impartial--to look | |
the other way as quickly as possible. He was sorry that he was obliged | |
to do this, for there was something in her eyes that warranted quite a | |
little time for analysis. | |
The cross-examination proceeded. Sampson, resolutely directed his gaze | |
out of its natural channel and devoted a great deal more attention to | |
the witness than he felt that the witness deserved. He could not help | |
feeling, however, that he was treating Miss Hildebrand with unnecessary | |
boorishness. No doubt she looked at him from time to time, and she | |
must have felt a little bit hurt, not to say offended--by his somewhat | |
conspicuous indifference. | |
Suddenly he pricked up his ears. Mr. O'Brien had put to the witness a | |
question that had something of a personal interest in it. | |
“James Hildebrand, Jr., lost his wife in 1906, did he not, Mr. Stevens?” | |
“I don't remember the year.” | |
“You remember when he was married, however, do you not?” | |
“I can't say. I think it was in 1888.” The witness had turned a rather | |
sickly green. He spoke with an effort. | |
“The year after you and he graduated from college, wasn't it?” | |
“We were in the class of '87.” | |
“You are still unmarried, I believe, Mr. Stevens?” | |
“I am unmarried, sir,” said the witness, sitting up a little straighter | |
in the chair. | |
“Did you know Miss Katherine Alexander before she was married to James | |
Hildebrand?” | |
“I did,” said Stevens, his face set. | |
Sampson ventured a swift look at Alexandra Hildebrand. She was looking | |
down at the table, her face half averted. It struck him as exceedingly | |
brutal of Mr. O'Brien to drag this poor girl's dead mother into the | |
public light of--But the lawyer asked another question. | |
“You and young Mr. Hildebrand remained friends for a number of years | |
after his marriage, did you not?” | |
“I always thought so.” | |
“You never bore him any ill will?” | |
“What do you mean?” | |
“I withdraw the question. When was it that you and James Hildebrand, | |
Jr., ceased to be friends?” | |
“I--I don't know. I cannot go into that matter, Mr. O'Brien. I--” Mr. | |
Stevens was visibly distressed. | |
“Wasn't it in 1895 that you and he ceased to be friends?” persisted the | |
lawyer. | |
“There was a terrible misunderstanding, I--that is, I should say--” | |
“In 1895, wasn't it?” | |
“I think so.” Mr. Stevens was perspiring. He looked beseechingly at the | |
district attorney, who happened to be gazing pensively out of the window | |
at the time. | |
“You were a frequent and welcome visitor at young Hildebrand's home up | |
to 1895, weren't you?” | |
“It was through no fault of mine that the friendship was broken off. Mr. | |
Hildebrand behaved in a most outrageous manner toward me.” | |
“Isn't it true, Mr. Stevens, that Mr. Hildebrand ordered you out of his | |
house and told you that you were not to enter it again?” | |
“Mr. Hildebrand grievously misunderstood my--” | |
“Answer the question, please. Were you not ordered out of your friend's | |
house?” | |
“Am I obliged, your Honour, to answer--” | |
“Answer yes or no,” said the Court, leaning forward and fixing the | |
witness with a very severe stare. (Sampson regarded him as distinctly | |
human, after all.) Miss Hildebrand's, eyes were still lowered. The aged | |
prisoner, however, was looking a hole through the now miserable witness. | |
“He threatened to kill me,” exclaimed Stevens violently. “He acted like | |
a crazy man over a perfectly innocent--” | |
“He ordered you out, didn't he?” came the deadly question. | |
Mr. Stevens swallowed hard. “Yes.” | |
“And you maintain that he took that step because he misunderstood | |
something or other, eh?” | |
“Most certainly.” | |
“Well, what was it he misunderstood?” | |
“I must decline to answer. I stand on my rights.” | |
“Wasn't it because Mrs. Hildebrand complained to him that you had | |
been--er--unnecessarily offensive to her?” | |
“I decline to answer.” | |
“In any event, you never entered his house again, and you never spoke to | |
him or his wife after that. Isn't that true?' | |
“I was justified in ignoring both of them. They insulted me most--” | |
“I understand, Mr. Stevens. We will drop the matter. I have no desire | |
to cause you unnecessary pain. Now will you be good enough to state | |
when you first noticed that there was something wrong with the books | |
and accounts of the defendant? What first caused you to suspect that the | |
funds were being juggled, as you put it in the direct examination?” | |
Mr. Stevens had an easier time of it after that. He resumed his placid, | |
kindly air, and maintained it to the end, although a keen observer | |
might have observed an uneasy respect for Mr. O'Brien. He appeared to be | |
relieved when the examination was concluded. | |
Sampson went out to luncheon in a more cheerful frame of mind. It | |
was quite clear to every one that Mr. Stevens was guilty, at least | |
circumstantially, of conduct unbecoming a gentleman. | |
CHAPTER III | |
Two days went by. Mr. Drew, Mr. Schoolcraft and Mr. Kauffman were | |
examined and cross-examined, and after them came the first of the expert | |
accountants employed to go over the books. The situation continued to | |
look black for Mr. Hildebrand--if anything a little blacker, for neither | |
of the foregoing witnesses appeared to have been guilty of offending | |
a lady to such an extent that her husband had to order him out of the | |
house. | |
Mr. Drew received considerable unpleasant attention from the defendant's | |
counsel, but he came through pretty comfortably. He admitted that he | |
“cleaned up more than half a million” on the deal with the insurance | |
company, and that he was the husband of Mr. Stevens' sister. He always | |
had been sorry for Mr. Hildebrand, and even now was without animus. Mr. | |
Schoolcraft acknowledged buying and selling the younger Hildebrand's | |
shares, but was positive that there had been no collusion with Mr. | |
Stevens. | |
The case began to drag. Sampson lost interest. He attended strictly and | |
no doubt diligently to the evidence, but when the expert accountants | |
began to testify he found himself considerably at sea. He was not good | |
at figures. They made him restless. The rest of the jury appeared to be | |
similarly afflicted. Politeness alone kept them from yawning. Afterwards | |
it was revealed that only one of the twelve was good at figures of any | |
sort: the automobile salesman. He was a perfect marvel at statistics. He | |
could tell you how many miles it is from New York to Oswego without even | |
calculating, and he knew to a fraction the difference in the upkeep of | |
all the known brands of automobiles in America. He made Sampson tired. | |
Despite the damaging testimony that seemed surely to be strangling her | |
grandfather's chances for escape, Miss Hildebrand revealed no sign of | |
despair, or defeat. She came in each morning as serene as a May evening, | |
and she left the court-room in the afternoon with a mien as untroubled | |
as when she entered it. . | |
There was quite a little flutter in the jury box--and outside of it, | |
for that matter--when, on the third morning, she appeared in a complete | |
change of costume--a greyish, modish sort of thing, Sampson would have | |
told you--very smart and trig and comforting to the masculine eye. | |
Sampson who knew more than any of his companions about such things, | |
remarked (to himself, of course)--that her furs were chinchilla. | |
Chinchilla is nothing if not convincing. | |
It struck him, as he took her in--(she was standing, straight and slim, | |
conversing with that beardless cub of an assistant-assistant district | |
attorney)--that she was, if such a thing were possible, even lovelier | |
than she was in the other gown. No doubt Sampson failed in his sense of | |
proportion. She was undeniably lovelier today than yesterday, and she | |
would continue to go on being prettier from day to day, no matter what | |
manner of gown she wore. | |
It also occurred to him that the young assistant-assistant was | |
singularly unprofessional, if not actually fresh, in dragging her into a | |
conversation that must have been distasteful to her. He wondered how she | |
could smile so agreeably and so enchantingly over the stupid things the | |
fellow was saying. | |
Near the close of the noon recess he was constrained to reprove No. | |
7 for an act that might have created serious complications. He was | |
standing in the rotunda finishing his third cigarette, when Miss | |
Hildebrand approached on her way to the court-room. It had been his | |
practice--and it was commendable--to refrain from staring at her on | |
occasions such as this. A rather low order of intelligence prevented | |
his fellow jurors from according her the same consideration. They stared | |
without blinking until she disappeared from view. | |
Now, No. 7 meant no harm, and yet he so far forgot himself that he | |
doffed his hat to her as she passed. Fortunately she was not looking in | |
his direction. As a matter of fact, she never even so much as noticed | |
the nine or ten jurors who strewed her path. No. 7 was mistaken, there | |
can be no doubt about that. He thought she looked at him instead of | |
through him, and in his excitement he grabbed for his hat. Perhaps | |
he hoped for a smile of recognition, and, if not that, a smile of | |
amusement. He would have been grateful in either case. | |
“Don't do that,” whispered Sampson, gruffly. | |
“Why not?” demanded No. 7, blinking his eyes. “No harm in being a | |
gentleman, is there?” | |
“You must not be seen speaking to her--or to any one of the interested | |
parties, for that matter. Do you want to have her accused of bribery | |
or--er--complicity?” | |
“I thought she was going to speak to me,” stammered No. 7. | |
“Well, she wasn't. She has too much sense for that. Good Lord, if | |
counsel for the State saw you doing that sort of thing, they'd suspect | |
something in a second.” | |
“Haven't you read about those jury-fixing scandals?” exclaimed the | |
chubby bachelor, surprisingly red in the face. He had almost reached his | |
own hat when Sampson spoke. Four or five of the others glowered upon the | |
offending No. 7. “We can't even be seen bowing to anybody connected with | |
the case.” | |
“I saw you throw your cigar away when she came in the door,” retorted | |
No. 7, in some exasperation. “What did you do that for?” | |
The chubby bachelor looked hurt. “Because I was through with it,” he | |
said. “I don't hang onto 'em till they burn my lips, you know.” He | |
deemed it advisable to resort to sarcasm. | |
“Just remember that you are a juror,” advised No. 4 in a friendly tone. | |
One might have thought he was compassionate. | |
“No harm done,” said No. 12. “She didn't even see you. I happen to know, | |
because she was lookin' right at me when you took off your lid. You | |
didn't notice me fiddling with my head-piece, did you? I guess not. She | |
don't expect us to, and so I didn't make any crack. I--” | |
“I'd suggest,” said Sampson, with dignity, “that we devote a certain | |
amount of respect to the ethics.” | |
It was a little puzzling. Ethics is a word that calls for reflection. | |
You've got to know just what it means, and after you know that much | |
about it, you've got to fix its connection. Several of the gentlemen | |
nodded profoundly, and two of them said: “Well, I should say so.” That | |
night Sampson sat alone in front of his fireplace, his brow clouded by | |
uneasy, disturbing thoughts. A woodfire crackled and simmered on the | |
huge Florentine andirons. Turple, coming in to inquire if he would speak | |
with Mrs. Fitzmorton on the telephone, was gruffly instructed to say | |
that he was not at home, and when Turple returned with the word that | |
Mrs. Fitzmorton was at home and still expecting him to dine at her house | |
that evening, notwithstanding the fact that her guests and her | |
dinner had been waiting for him since eight o'clock--and it was now | |
8:45--Sampson groaned so dismally that his valet was alarmed. The | |
groan was succeeded, however, by a far from feeble expression of | |
self-reproach, and a tremendous scurrying into overcoat and hat. He | |
reached Mrs. Fitzmorton's house--it happened to be in the next block | |
north--in less than three minutes, and he was so engagingly contrite, | |
and so terribly good-looking, that she forgave him at once--which was | |
more than the male members of the party did. | |
They were all married men and they couldn't forgive anybody for being | |
late. They were always being implored, either pathetically or peevishly, | |
to stop complaining. | |
Sampson had cause for worry. He had been slow in arriving at the truth, | |
but that afternoon his conviction was established. Miss Hildebrand was | |
depending on him to swing that jury! | |
She was counting on his intelligence, his decision, his insight, his | |
power to see beyond the supposed facts in the case as presented by the | |
witnesses for the State. He was sure of it. There was nothing in the | |
cool, frank scrutiny that she gave him from time to time that could be | |
described by the most critical of minds as even suggestive of a purpose | |
to influence him, and yet he was sure that she depended on his good | |
sense for a solution of all that was going on. | |
What disturbed him most was this: there was no distinction between the | |
look she gave him when the State scored a point and when the condition | |
was reversed. The same confident, reasoning expression was in her lovely | |
eyes, as much as to say: “You must see through all this, No. 3--of | |
course you must, or you couldn't look me in the eye as you do.” | |
It was as clear as day to him: she was certain that her grandfather was | |
incapable of doing the thing he was charged with doing, and she could | |
not see how a man of his (Sampson's) perception could possibly think | |
otherwise. | |
The revelation caused him to forget all about his dinner engagement. | |
Also it caused him to pass an absolutely sleepless night. When he | |
closed his eyes she still looked into them--always the same clear, | |
understanding, undoubting gaze that he had come to know so well. When he | |
lay with them wide open, staring into the darkness, the vision took more | |
definite shape, so he closed them tightly again. | |
Turple noticed his haggardness the next morning and was solicitous. Now, | |
Turple, at his best, was not entitled to a stare of any description. But | |
Sampson's rapt gaze was so prolonged and so singularly detached from the | |
object upon which it rested--Turple's countenance--that the poor fellow | |
was alarmed. He had never seen his master look just like that before. | |
Later on, Sampson told him to go to the devil. Turple was relieved. | |
The accountants, the detectives and two bookkeepers who formerly had | |
worked under Mr. Hildebrand testified and then the State rested. Through | |
it all the prisoner sat unmoved. Sampson wondered what was going on in | |
the mind of that gaunt, fine-faced old man. What would be his answer to | |
the damning evidence that stood arrayed against him? What _could_ be his | |
defence! | |
He was sorry for him. He would have given a great deal to be able to | |
rise now from his seat in the jury box and announce candidly that he did | |
not feel that he could bring in a verdict against the old man, reminding | |
the Court and the district attorney that he had said in the beginning | |
that he could not answer for his sympathies. | |
During the noon recess he took account of his fellow jurors. They were | |
a glum, serious looking set of men. He knew where their sympathies lay | |
and, like himself, they were depressed. The justice--even he--had lost | |
much of the geniality that at the outset had warmed the atmosphere. He | |
no longer smiled; no more did he exploit his wit, and as for his brisk | |
moustache, it drooped. | |
To the amazement of every one, the defendant's counsel announced that | |
they had but one witness: the prisoner himself. And every one then knew | |
that no matter what the prisoner said in his own defence, his testimony | |
would be unsupported; it would have to stand alone against odds that | |
were overwhelming. | |
Slowly but surely it became evident to these more or less discerning | |
men that James Hildebrand's plea would be for sympathy and not for | |
vindication. By his own story of the dealings with Stevens and Drew and | |
the others he hoped to reach their hearts and through their hearts a | |
certain sense of justice that moves in all men's minds. | |
Sampson's heart sank. While he was convinced that the old man had been | |
cruelly tricked by his business associates, that they had squeezed him | |
dry in order to profit by his misery, that Stevens at least was actuated | |
by a personal grudge which found relief in crushing the father of | |
the man he hated, and that the others may have been innocently or | |
pusillanimously influenced by the designs of this one man who sought | |
control, there still remained the fact that Hildebrand, according to the | |
evidence, had violated the law and was a subject for punishment--if not | |
for correction, as the prison reformers would have it in these days. In | |
no way could the old man's act be legally or morally justified. Sampson, | |
after hearing the announcement of his counsel, realised that he would | |
have a very unpleasant duty to perform, and he knew that he was going to | |
hate himself. | |
He had never spoken a word to Alexandra Hildebrand; he had not even | |
heard the sound of her voice--her conversation with counsel was carried | |
on in whispers or in subdued tones--And yet he was in love with her! He | |
was the victim of a glorious enchantment. | |
And he knew that No. 7 was in love with her--foolishly in love with her; | |
and so was the once supercilious No. 12; and the chubby bachelor; and | |
No. 9 who wanted to stay off the jury because he had to get married in | |
three weeks; and No. 8 who had two sons in the high school, one daughter | |
in Altman's and two wives in the cemetery; and the sombre-faced No. 1; | |
and all the rest of them! No. 2, who chewed gum resoundingly, no | |
longer chewed. His jaws were silenced. He had an impression that Miss | |
Hildebrand disapproved of gum-chewing, so he stopped. More than this, no | |
man could sacrifice. | |
The spruce young men from the district attorney's office were visibly | |
affected--(they really were quite sickening, thought Sampson); and the | |
deputy clerk, the court-room bailiffs, and the stripling who carried | |
messages from one given point to another with incredible speed, now that | |
he had something to keep him moving. | |
All of them, in a manner of speaking, were in love with her. And she was | |
not in love with any one of them. There could be no doubt about that. | |
They meant absolutely nothing to her. | |
Sampson wondered if she had a sweetheart, if there was some one with | |
whom she was in love, if those dear lips--and he sighed bleakly. He | |
hated, with unexampled venom, this purely suppositious male who harassed | |
him from morning till night. Common-sense told him that she must have | |
a sweetheart. It was inconceivable that she shouldn't possess the most | |
natural thing in the world. She just couldn't help having one. What sort | |
of a fellow was he? Of course, he didn't deserve her; that was clear | |
enough, assuming that the fellow actually existed. In his present frame | |
of mind, Sampson could think of only one man in the world who might | |
possibly be deserving of her. | |
Nevertheless, he felt that he was behaving in a silly, amateurish | |
manner, falling in love with her like this. It was to be expected of | |
ignorant, common louts such as No. 7--a very ordinary jackass!--and the | |
other ten men in the box, to say nothing of the suddenly adolescent yet | |
middle-aged horde outside. It was just the sort of thing that they would | |
be certain to do. They were a fatuous--but there he stopped, scowling | |
within himself. What right had he to call these other men fools? He was | |
no better than they. Indeed, he was worse, for he always had believed | |
himself to be supremely above such nonsense as this. They made no | |
pretentions. They fell in love with her just as they would have fallen | |
in love with any pretty girl--and, Heaven knows, pretty girls are | |
always being fallen in love with. But that he, the unimpressionable, | |
experienced Sampson, should lose his heart--and head--over a girl who | |
had never spoken a word to him, whom he had never seen until six days | |
before, and who doubtless would go out of his life completely the | |
instant the trial was over--why, it ought to have been excruciatingly | |
funny. But it wasn't funny. | |
It was very far from funny. Putting one's self in a class with No. 7 | |
and No. 12 and the rest of them was certainly not Sampson's idea of | |
something to laugh at. So he scowled ominously every time he chanced | |
to think of any one of them--which happened only when Miss Hildebrand | |
deigned to look at that particular individual. | |
And he would have to send her beloved grandfather to the penitentiary. | |
He would have to hurt her; he would have to bring pain and despair and, | |
worse than these, astonishment to her beautiful eyes. He knew that he | |
would be haunted for the rest of his life by the look she would give him | |
when the verdict was announced. | |
James Hildebrand went _on_ the stand on the afternoon of the sixth day. | |
A curious hush settled over the court-room. Men shifted in their chairs | |
and then slumped down dejectedly, as if oppressed by the utter futility | |
of the tale he would have to tell. Alexandra Hildebrand alone was | |
bright-eyed and eager. Her lips were slightly parted as the old man, | |
grey and erect, took the oath. She knew that the truth and nothing but | |
the truth could fall from the lips of this gentle old grandfather of | |
hers. Now they would have the truth! Now the case would crumble! She | |
sent one swift, reassuring look through the jury box, and, for the first | |
time, gazed into no man's eyes. She was puzzled. Every face was averted. | |
Long afterwards she may have recalled the queer little chill that | |
entered her heart, and stayed there for the briefest instant before | |
passing. | |
[Illustration: 0081] | |
The defendant's voice was low, well-modulated, unemotional; his manner | |
simple and yet impressive. Throughout the entire story that he told, his | |
hearers listened with rapt attention. | |
She sent one swift, reassuring look through the jury box. | |
They were hoping that he could convince them. They watched his fine, | |
distinguished face; they watched his sombre, unflinching eyes; they | |
watched his steady hands as they rested on the arms of the chair; they | |
watched him with fear in their hearts: the fear that he would falter and | |
betray himself. | |
He entered a simple, direct denial of the accusation made against him. | |
His story was not a long one, and it would have to go uncorroborated, | |
for, as he said himself, there was no one upon whom he could call for | |
support. In the first place, he declared that he did not know that he | |
was suspected of having robbed his partners until after many months had | |
passed. He was aware of the investigation, but it had never entered his | |
head that he could be the person under suspicion. He admitted taking a | |
hurried and perhaps ill-advised departure from New York, and, in answer | |
to a direct question from his own counsel, declared that he would never | |
reveal his reason for leaving so secretly and in such haste. | |
Facing the jury he stated calmly, deliberately and in a most resolute | |
manner that he would go to prison for the rest of his days, that he | |
would suffer lasting ignominy and disgrace, before he would publicly | |
account for this action on his part. | |
When he learned that a true bill had been returned against him by the | |
Grand Jury, his first impulse was to return to his own country and fight | |
the charge. Reflection convinced him that he was safe as long as he | |
remained in his sequestered home in Switzerland, and he made up his mind | |
to remain there and die with unlifted disgrace bearing down upon his | |
good name rather than to return and face the probability of having to | |
account for his absence. That, and that alone, was responsible for his | |
decision to remain where he was. No one knew of his whereabouts, not | |
even his own kith and kin. He was as safe as if he were already dead. | |
Then, in solemn, unforgettable tones he declared that he had never taken | |
a penny belonging to the Cornwallis Realty and Investment Company, that | |
he was innocent of the charge brought against him, notwithstanding the | |
fact that appearances were sufficient to convict. | |
Time brought a change in him. He decided to return and face his | |
accusers. He did not hope to convince them that he was innocent. He | |
only wanted the opportunity to stand before the world and proclaim his | |
innocence. He had no testimony to offer. He could only say that he had | |
not done this monstrous thing of which he was accused. | |
His testimony was given as a simple statement. He was allowed to tell | |
his brief story without the interpolation of a single question by his | |
counsel. Succinctly but with scant bitterness, he recited the story of | |
his own unfair treatment at the hands of his former partners. He touched | |
very casually upon that phase of the matter, as if it were of small | |
consequence to him now. There were no harsh words for the men who had | |
tricked him. One could not help having the feeling that he looked upon | |
them as beneath his notice. | |
He came home of his own free-will, after years of deliberation. He had | |
been influenced by no one in this singular crisis. He was alone in the | |
world. Except for his beloved granddaughter, there was no one else who | |
could suffer through the result of this trial. He was prepared to accept | |
the verdict of the twelve gentlemen who listened to him and who had | |
listened to the testimony of others before him. | |
There was not a sound in the court-room when he paused and drew a long | |
deep breath. Every eye was upon him. Then, in a clear, resonant voice he | |
said: | |
“Gentlemen, I repeat that I am absolutely innocent of this charge. I ask | |
you to believe me when I say this to you. If you do not believe me, I | |
must be content to accept your judgment. I do not ask you to discredit | |
the testimony of the men who have appeared against me. They have told | |
all they know about the circumstances, I dare say, and I am convinced | |
that they are honest men. They have only shown you that there was a | |
colossal theft, that a large sum of money is unaccounted for in their | |
business. They have not shown you, however, that I am the man who took | |
it. They have only shown you that fifty thousand dollars is missing and | |
unaccounted for. I admit I was responsible as treasurer of the company | |
for the safe-keeping and guardianship of all that money. It disappeared. | |
I can only say to you, gentlemen, that I did not take it.” | |
His voice was husky. There was a long pause, and then he settled back | |
in his chair and turned wearily to the district attorney for | |
crossexamination. It was then that the crowd knew he had finished his | |
story. A deep breath came from the lips of every one, as if for many | |
minutes it had been withheld. | |
Sampson's gaze involuntarily sought Alexandra Hildebrand's face. He did | |
not mean to look at her. He could not resist the impulse, however. It | |
was stronger than the adamantine resolution he had made. The light of | |
triumph was in her glowing eyes, the flush of victory in the cheek. Her | |
grandfather had cleared himself! | |
Sampson's heart ached as it sank to depths from which it would never | |
rebound. He turned hopelessly to the man in the witness chair, and | |
waited for the district attorney to open his grilling cross-examination. | |
He knew what the State would demand: why did he go away? Who replaced | |
a large portion of the amount originally missing? Why did he sell his | |
real-estate and his interest in the business? A hundred vital questions | |
would be discharged at him, and he would--But, even as he delved in | |
these dismal reflections, the district attorney arose in his place and | |
said, clearly, distinctly--although no man at first believed his ears: | |
“No questions, your Honour.” | |
There was utter silence while this amazing announcement sank into | |
the minds of the listeners. Counsel for the defence sat rigid and | |
uncomprehending in their chairs; the justice leaned forward and stared; | |
the prisoner's eyes widened for a second and then slowly closed. His | |
chin fell; his attitude was one of acute humiliation. His story was not | |
even worthy of notice! No questions! The acme of derision! | |
Argument by counsel followed, the beardless “assistant-assistant” making | |
the opening address to the jury. He floundered badly. Sampson derived | |
some consolation from his futile, feeble arraignment. If the principal | |
attorney for the State didn't do a great deal better than his singularly | |
ineffectual confrere, there was still hope that the prisoner's counsel | |
might by impassioned pleas stir the hearts of twelve men to mercy. | |
The sympathies of all were--But even as he speculated on the probable | |
lengths to which sympathy would carry his companions in arriving at | |
a verdict, there suddenly flashed into his brain a vast illumination. | |
James W. Hildebrand was not guilty! He was shielding some one else! His | |
reluctance to tell why he left New York was explained. He could not tell | |
without betraying a secret that must forever remain inviolate! Sampson | |
breathed easier. Why, it was as plain as day to him! At least, it was | |
something on which to base a conclusion. It might come in very handy too | |
when the jury, in seclusion, began to grope for a favouring light. On | |
reflection they would all agree that no witness actually had sworn that | |
Hildebrand took the money. The evidence was decidedly circumstantial. By | |
deduction alone was he guilty. On the other hand he had solemnly sworn | |
that he didn't take it. And if he didn't take it, who did? That, said | |
Sampson, was a very simple thing to answer: Some person unknown to the | |
jury. | |
Miss Hildebrand's spirits undoubtedly fell after that significant move | |
of the State. There was an anxious, bewildered expression in her eyes, | |
and a rather pathetic droop at the corners of her adorable mouth. | |
The argument proceeded. Mr. O 'Brien made the closing speech for the | |
defendant. Her spirits revived under the eloquent, fervent plea of the | |
now brilliant Irishman. Sampson experienced a feeling of real affection | |
for the earnest, though unkempt orator, who more than once brought | |
tears almost to the surface of his eyes. He had great difficulty in | |
suppressing a desire to blubber, and, when he saw her velvety eyes | |
swimming in tears, he blew his nose so violently that he started an | |
epidemic. No. 7, instead of blowing his nose, sniffed so repeatedly and | |
so audibly that every one wished he'd blow, and have it over with. | |
And when her eyes flashed with indignation during the uncalled-for | |
tirade of the assistant district attorney, Sampson developed a bitter | |
hatred for the man. When she appeared crushed and bewildered by the | |
vicious attacks of the fellow, and shrank down in her chair like a | |
frightened child, Sampson wanted to take her in his strong, comforting | |
arms and--But, of course, there wasn't any use thinking about such a | |
thing as that. It was not one of his duties as a juror. | |
The case went to the jury at four o'clock that afternoon, after a | |
somewhat protracted and, to Sampson, totally unenlightening charge by | |
the justice, who advised the jurors that they must weigh the evidence | |
as it was found and forbear allowing their sympathies to overcome their | |
sense of justice. And so on and so forth. He made it very hard for the | |
jurors. If they went entirely by the evidence, there wasn't anything | |
left for them to do but to find the defendant guilty. Sampson had hoped | |
for ameliorating suggestions from the learned justice on which he could | |
base a sensible doubt as to the guilt of the defendant. | |
But, in so many words, the justice announced that the preponderance of | |
the evidence was in favour of the State. He told the jurors it was their | |
duty and privilege to take the defendant's unsupported testimony for | |
what they considered it to be worth and to place it in opposition to the | |
evidence produced by the State. It was then their duty to render a fair | |
and impartial verdict on the evidence. | |
As the twelve men filed out of the box on their way to the jury room, | |
Sampson shot a glance at Alexandra Hildebrand. He would not see her | |
again until he returned to the seat he had occupied for six days, and | |
after that she was to pass out of his life entirely. He hoped that she | |
would not be there when he came back with his verdict. It would be much | |
easier for him. He did not attempt to deceive himself any longer. If | |
he lived up to his notions of honour and integrity, there was but one | |
verdict he could return. (He wondered if his companions would prove to | |
be as rigid in this respect as he.) | |
She was looking in the opposite direction, her chin in her hand. She did | |
not meet his unhappy gaze. He was grateful for that. | |
CHAPTER IV | |
Whatcheb say your name was?” demanded No. 8, aggressively. | |
“I didn't say,” said Sampson coolly. “Call me No. 3, if you don't mind. | |
I'll answer to it.” | |
“Well, my name is Hooper, and that's what I want to be called.” | |
“I'm not going to call you anything,” said Sampson, turning away in his | |
loftiest manner. | |
“Well, I guess it's just as well you don't,” snorted No. 8, sticking out | |
his chest, and it wasn't a very obtrusive chest at that. Putting it back | |
to where it normally belonged was a much less arduous job for No. 8 | |
than sticking it out. He couldn't have stuck it out at all if he hadn't | |
possessed the backing of ten men. | |
In short, the jury had been out for seven hours and the last ballot | |
stood eleven to one for acquittal. Sampson was the unit. | |
No. 12 tried diplomacy. “Say, now, fellers, let's get together on this | |
thing. We don't get anywhere by knockin' Mr. Sampson. He's got a right | |
to think as he pleases, same as we have. So let's be calm and try to get | |
together.” | |
“My God,” groaned No. 1, “can you beat that? Eleven of us have been | |
together since five o'clock this afternoon, and you talk about being | |
calm. Now, as foreman of this jury, I think I've got some right to be | |
heard. You'll admit that, won't you, Mr. Sampson?” | |
“Certainly. Up to this moment, I've had no difficulty in hearing you. It | |
isn't necessary to shout, either. I'm not deaf.” | |
“Now, let me talk,” went on the foreman. “Keep still a minute, you | |
fellers. Mr. Sampson is a gentleman. He's got as much sense, I suppose, | |
as any of us. He--” | |
“Thanks,” said Sampson. | |
“Well, here we are, 'leven to one. You admit that your sympathies are | |
with the old man, same as the rest of us. You say you'd sooner be | |
shot than to send him up. Well, now let's--wait a minute, Hooper! I'm | |
talking. Let's talk this thing over as friends. I apologise for what I | |
said just after supper. You've got a right to be pig-headed. You've got | |
a legal right to hang this jury. But is it right and fair? If 'leven | |
of us are willing to go on record as--er--as putting credence in the | |
testimony of Mr. Hildebrand, I can't see why you're afraid to come in | |
with us. Down in your soul you don't think he's guilty. You say that | |
maybe he is shielding some one else. If that's the way you feel, why not | |
come out like a man and give the poor old lad the benefit of the doubt? | |
Lord knows I'm a hard man. I don't want to see any guilty man escape. | |
I believe in putting 'em where they belong, and keeping 'em there. By | |
Gosh, nobody dares to say to my face that I'm easy on criminals. I'm as | |
hard as nails. My wife says I'm as hard as all get-out. And she ought | |
to know. She's heard me talk about crime here in New York for nearly | |
fifteen years, and she knows how I feel. Well, if I am willing to give | |
the old man a chance, it ought to stand for something, oughtn't it? Hard | |
as I am? Just reason it out for yourself, Mr. Sampson. Now, we all | |
agree that the evidence against him is pretty strong. But it is | |
circumstantial. You said so yourself in the beginning. It was you who | |
said that it was circumstantial. You said--just a minute, Hooper! You | |
said that while everything pointed to him as the guilty man, nobody | |
actually swore that he saw him take the money. On the other hand, he | |
swears he didn't take it. He ought to know, oughtn't he? If he knows who | |
did take it, why that's his business. I don't believe in squealers. I | |
wouldn't have any mercy on a man who turned State's evidence to save | |
himself. Well, now, supposing old man Hildebrand knows who got away with | |
the stuff. He is too much of a man to squeal. We oughtn't to send him up | |
just because he won't squeal on the man--a friend, for all we know--even | |
though it might save him from going to the pen. I leave it to you, Mr. | |
Sampson: ought we?” | |
“Of course we oughtn't,” broke in the irrepressible Mr. Hooper. “Any | |
damn' fool ought to see that.” | |
Sampson eyed Mr. Hooper severely. “He's leaving it to me, Mr. Hooper; | |
not to you.” He leaned a little closer, his eyes narrowing. “And, by the | |
way, Mr. Hooper, before we go any farther, I should like to call your | |
attention to several facts entirely separate and apart from this trial. | |
It may interest you to know that I am six feet one in my stocking feet, | |
that I weigh one hundred and ninety-five pounds, that I am just under | |
thirty years of age, that I was one of the strongest men in college, | |
and that up to a certain point I am, and always have been, one of the | |
gentlest and best-natured individuals in the world.” | |
“What do you mean by that?” blustered No. 8. | |
“Gentlemen!” admonished the foreman. The automobile salesman stopped | |
picking his teeth. | |
“I am merely trying to convince you, Mr. Hooper, that there is a great | |
deal more to be said for circumstantial evidence than you might think. | |
You might go on forever thinking that I am a meek, spineless saphead, | |
and on the other hand you might have it proved to you that I'm not. | |
Please reflect on what I have just said. It can't do you any harm to | |
reflect, Mr. Hooper.” | |
“Oh, piffle!” said Mr. Hooper, getting very red in the face. | |
“Sic 'em!” said No. 12, under his breath. | |
“Moreover,” went on Sampson, smiling--but mirthlessly--“I am assuming | |
that your exercises as a hat salesman are not such as one gets in a | |
first-class gymnasium. I hope you will pardon me for asking you to | |
repeat the word you just uttered. I think it was 'piffle.'” | |
Mr. Hooper grinned. He didn't feel like grinning but something | |
psychological told him to do it--and to do it as quickly as possible. | |
“Aw, don't get sore, old man. Forget it!” | |
“Certainly,” said Sampson. | |
The foreman seized the opportunity. “There, now, that's better. At last | |
we seem to Be getting together.” | |
No. 7 spoke up. “This might be a good time to take another ballot. It's | |
'leven minutes to one by my watch. We stand 'leven to one. That's a good | |
sign. Say, do you know that's pretty darned smart, if I do say it myself | |
who--” | |
“Let's have Mr. Sampson's revised views on the subject and then take a | |
final ballot for tonight,” said the foreman, wearily. | |
“I haven't revised my views,” said Sampson. | |
There were several draughty sighs. “I've stated them five or six times | |
to-night, and I see no reason to alter them now. Deeply as I regret it, | |
I cannot conscientiously do anything but vote for a conviction.” | |
“Now, listen to me once more, Mr. Sampson,” began the chubby bachelor. | |
“I'll try to set you straight in--” | |
“See here,” said Sampson, arising and confronting his companions, “we | |
may just as well look this thing squarely in the face. I don't want | |
to send him up any more than the rest of you do. But I am going to be | |
honest with myself in this matter if I have to stay out here for six | |
months. We've heard all of the evidence. It seems pretty clear to all of | |
us that the defendant was responsible for the loss of that money, even | |
if he didn't take it himself. He was the treasurer of the concern. He | |
had absolute charge of the funds. So far as we are concerned the State | |
has made out its case. We are supposed to be impartial. We are supposed | |
to render a verdict according to the law and the evidence. We cannot be | |
governed by sympathy or conjecture. | |
“When I left the court-room with the rest of you gentlemen to deliberate | |
on a verdict, I will confess to you that I had in my heart a hope that | |
you men would do just what you have done all along: vote for acquittal. | |
When I came into this room seven hours ago, I was eager to vote just as | |
you have voted. Then I began to reflect. I asked myself this question: | |
how can I go back to that court-room and look the district attorney and | |
the Court in the face and say that James Hildebrand is not guilty? If I | |
did that, gentlemen, I am quite sure I could never look an honest man in | |
the face again. We have all been carried away by our sympathies--I quite | |
as much as the rest of you. I am convinced that there isn't a man among | |
you who can stand up here and say, on his honour, that the evidence | |
warrants the discharge of the defendant. | |
“God knows I want to set him free. I am inclined to believe his story. | |
He is not the sort of man who would steal. But, after all, we are bound, | |
as honest men, to carry out the requirements of the law. The Court | |
clearly stated the law in this case. Under the law, we can do nothing | |
else but convict, gentlemen. | |
“You, Mr. Foreman, have said that Hildebrand perhaps knows who took | |
the money. You will admit that you are guessing at it, just as I am | |
guessing. In his own testimony he was careful to say nothing that would | |
lead us to believe that he knows the guilty man. The State definitely | |
charges him with the crime and it produces evidence of an overwhelming | |
nature to support the charge. Against this evidence is his simple | |
statement that he did not take the money. He had already pleaded not | |
guilty. Is it to be expected of him, therefore, that he should say | |
anything else but that he did not rob his partners? | |
“Only the criminals who are caught redhanded confess that they | |
are guilty. The guiltiest of them go on the stand, as we all know, | |
proclaiming their innocence, and, not one, but all of the men who go to | |
the chair after making such pleas maintain with their last breath that | |
they are innocent. Gentlemen, this is the bitterest hour in all my life. | |
I want to set this old man free, but I cannot conscientiously do so. I | |
took my oath to render a fair and impartial verdict. You all know what | |
a fair and impartial verdict must be in this case. I shall have to vote, | |
as I have voted from the beginning, for conviction.” | |
He sat down. No. 7, who was directly opposite him across the long table, | |
leaned forward suddenly with an odd expression in his eyes. Then he | |
blinked them. | |
“Why, by jingo, he's--he's crying!” he exclaimed, something akin to awe | |
in his voice. “You got tears in your eyes, darn me if you haven't.” | |
There were tears in Sampson's eyes. He lowered his head. | |
“Yes,” he said gruffly; “and I am not ashamed of them.” | |
“Oh, come now, old feller,” said Mr. Hooper, uncomfortably; “don't make | |
a scene. Pull yourself together. We're all friends here, and we're all | |
good fellers. Don't--” | |
“I'm all right,” said Sampson coldly. “You see I'm not as | |
hard-hearted as you thought. Now, gentlemen, I shall not attempt to | |
argue with you. I shall not attempt to persuade you to look at the case | |
from my point of view. As a matter of fact, I am rather well pleased | |
with the attitude you've taken. The trouble is that it isn't going to | |
help the poor old man. All we can do is to disagree, and that means | |
he will have to be tried all over again, perhaps after many months of | |
confinement. I should like to ask you--all of you--a few rather pointed | |
questions, and I'd like to have square and fair answers from you. What | |
do you say to that?” | |
“Fire away,” said the foreman. | |
“It's one o'clock,” said No. 7. “Supposin' we wait till after | |
breakfast.” | |
“Gawd, I'm sleepy,” groaned No. 12. | |
“No,” said the foreman firmly; “let's hear what Mr. Sampson has to say. | |
He's got a lot of good common sense and he won't ask foolish questions. | |
They'll be important, believe me.” | |
They all settled hack in their chairs, wearily, drearily. | |
“All right. Go ahead,” sighed the chubby bachelor. “I'll answer any | |
question except 'what'll you have to drink,' and I'll answer that | |
to-morrow.” | |
Sampson hesitated. He was eyeing No. 7 in a retrospective sort of | |
way. No. 7 shifted in his chair and succeeded in banishing the dreamy, | |
faraway look in his eyes. | |
“Assuming,” began the speaker, “that we were trying a low-browed, | |
undershot ruffian instead of James W. Hildebrand, and the evidence | |
against him was identical with that which we have been listening to, | |
would you disregard it and accept his statement instead?” | |
“The case ain't parallel,” said No. 8. “His face wouldn't be James W. | |
Hildebrand's, and you can bank a lot on a feller's face, Mr. Sampson.” | |
The others said, “That's so.” | |
“That establishes one fact very clearly, doesn't it? You all admit that | |
with a different sort of a face and manner, Mr. Hildebrand might be as | |
guilty as sin. Well, that point being settled, let me ask you another | |
question. If Miss Alexandra Hildebrand, the granddaughter who has faced | |
us for six working days, were a sour-visaged, watery-eyed damsel of | |
uncertain age and devoid of what is commonly called sex-appeal, would | |
your sympathies still be as happily placed as they are at present?” | |
No man responded. Each one seemed willing to allow his neighbour to | |
answer this perfectly unanswerable question. | |
“You do not answer,” went on Sampson, “so I will put it in another | |
form. Suppose that Miss Alexandra Hildebrand had not been there at all; | |
suppose that she had not been where we could look at her for six short | |
consecutive days--and consequently think of her for six long consecutive | |
nights--or where she couldn't possibly have looked at us out of eyes | |
that revealed the most holy trust in us--well, what then? I confess that | |
Miss Hildebrand exercised a tremendous influence over me. Did she have | |
the same effect upon you?” | |
Several of them cleared their throats, and then of one accord, as if | |
moved by a single magnetic impulse, all of them said, in a loud, almost | |
combative tone, “No!” | |
The chubby bachelor qualified his negative. “She didn't have an undue | |
influence, Mr. Sampson. Of course, I liked to look at her. She's easy to | |
look at, you know.” He blushed as his eyes swept the group with what he | |
intended to be defiance but was in reality embarrassment. | |
No. 7: “I was awfully sorry for her. I guess everybody was.” | |
No. 9; “She's devoted to the old man. I like that in her. I tell you | |
there's nothing finer than a young girl showing love and respect for--” | |
No. 12: “She's a square little scout. Take it from me, gents, she wasn't | |
thinking of me as a juror when she happened to turn her lamps on me. | |
I'm an old hand at the game. I can tell you a lot about women that you | |
wouldn't guess in--” | |
Sampson: “We may, therefore, eliminate Miss Hildebrand as the pernicious | |
force in our deliberations. She has nothing to do with our sense of | |
justice. We would be voting, I take it, just as we have been all along | |
if there were no such person as she. However, it occurs to me that each | |
of you gentlemen may have had the same impression that I had during the | |
trial. I had a feeling that Miss Hildebrand was depending on me to | |
a tremendous extent. You may be sure that I do not charge her with | |
duplicity--God knows I have the sincerest admiration for her--but I | |
found it pretty difficult to meet her honest, serene, trustful eyes | |
without experiencing a decided opinion that it was my bounden duty to | |
acquit her grandfather. Anybody else feel that way about it?” | |
There was a long silence. Again each man seemed to be waiting for the | |
other to break it. It was the foreman who spoke. | |
“I'll be perfectly honest, for one,” he said. “I thought and still think | |
that she looked upon me as a friendly juror. Nothing wrong about | |
it, mind you--not a thing. I wouldn't have you think that she | |
deliberately--er--ahem! What have you to say, No. 7?” | |
No. 7 blushed violently. “Not a word,” said he. “I profess to be a | |
gentleman.” | |
No. 8 snorted. “Well, then, act like one. Mr. Sampson's a gentleman. He | |
don't hesitate to say that he was--Say, Mr. Sampson, just what did you | |
say?” | |
“I said, without the slightest desire to create a wrong impression, that | |
I was deeply affected by the trust Miss Hildebrand appeared to place | |
in me. She believes her grandfather to be innocent, and I think she | |
believes that I agree with her. That's the long and the short of it.” | |
No. 4 slammed his fist upon the table. “By thunder, that's just exactly | |
the fix I'm in. Right from the start, I seemed to feel that I got on | |
this jury because she liked the looks of me. Not the way you think, | |
Hooper, but because I looked like a man who might give her grandfather a | |
square trial and--” | |
Mr. Hooper interrupted him hotly: “What do you mean by 'not the way you | |
think'? That sounded kind of disparaging, my good man--disparaging to | |
her. Explain yourself.” Sampson interposed. “I think we all understand | |
each other, gentlemen. Miss Hildebrand practically picked the whole | |
dozen of us. She inspected us as we came up, she sized us up, and | |
she had the final word to say as to whether we were acceptable to the | |
defence. She believed in us, or we wouldn't be here to-night. What makes | |
it all the harder for us, gentlemen, individually and collectively, is | |
that we believe in her. Now, what are we to do? Live up to her estimate | |
of us, or live up to a prior estimate of ourselves?” | |
“Well, let's sleep over it,” said the foreman uneasily. “I guess we're | |
all tired and--” | |
“I guess we won't sleep much,” broke in No. 7 miserably. “Damn' if | |
you'll ever get me on a jury again. I'm a nervous man anyhow and | |
now--I'm a wreck. I don't know what to do about this business.” | |
“If it were not for Miss Hildebrand, gentlemen, we'd all know what to | |
do,” said Sampson. “Isn't that a fact?” | |
“Well, you seem to have made up your mind,” said No. 8 gloomily. “I | |
thought mine was made up, but, by gosh, I--I want to do what's right. I | |
took my oath to--” | |
“We will take a ballot before breakfast in the morning,” said No. 1 | |
decisively. “Now, let's sleep if we can.” | |
They disposed themselves in chairs, stretched out their legs and--waited | |
for an illuminating daybreak. | |
Sampson's decision was final. He would not stultify his honour. He | |
would not be swayed by the sweetest emotion that ever had assailed him. | |
Besides, he argued through the long, tedious hours before dawn, when all | |
was said and done, what could Alexandra Hildebrand ever be to him? She | |
would go out of his life the day that-- | |
But there he was at it again! Why couldn't he put her out of his | |
thoughts? Why was he continually thinking of the day when he would see | |
the last of her? And what a conceited fool he had been! She had | |
been most impartial with her mute favours. Every man on the jury was | |
figuratively and literally in the same boat with him. Each one of them | |
believed as he believed: that he was the one special object of interest | |
to her. | |
But still--he was quite sure--she _had_ communed with him a little | |
more--was he justified in using the word?--intimately than with the | |
others? Surely he could not be mistaken in his belief that she | |
looked upon him as a trifle superior to--But some one was nudging him | |
violently. | |
“Wake up, Mr. Sampson,” a voice was saying--a voice that was vaguely | |
familiar. It was a coarse, unfeminine voice. “We're ready to take a | |
ballot before we go out to breakfast. Want to wash up first or will | |
you--” | |
“What time is it?” muttered Sampson, starting up from his chair. Was it | |
the chair that creaked, or was it his bones? He was stiff and sore and | |
horribly unwieldy. | |
“Half past seven,” said the foreman. Then Sampson recognised the voice | |
that had interrupted his personal confession. Moreover, he recognised | |
the unshaven countenance. It was really quite a shock, coming so closely | |
upon... “You've been hitting it up pretty soundly. No. 7 says he didn't | |
sleep a wink. Afraid to risk it, he says.” | |
At eight o'clock an attendant rapped on the door and told them to get | |
ready to go out to breakfast. | |
“Go away!” shouted the foreman. He was in the midst of an argument with | |
No. 7 when the interruption came, and he was getting the better of it. | |
“I'm willing to go half way,” said No. 7 dreamily. “Hungry as I am, I'll | |
go half way. I've got the darnedest headache on earth. If I had a cup of | |
coffee maybe I'd--” | |
“What do you mean half way?” exploded Mr. Hooper. “You can't render a | |
half-way verdict, can you?” | |
The ballot had just been taken. It stood eleven to one for conviction! | |
This time No. 7 was the unit. | |
“No,” said the dreamy No. 7, unoffended. “What I want to do is to | |
make it as light for him as possible. Can't we find him guilty of | |
embezzlement in the third degree or--” Sampson interrupted. He too | |
wanted his coffee. “Let's have our breakfast. Afterwards we can | |
discuss--” | |
“I want to settle it now,” roared Mr. Hooper. “It's all nonsense talking | |
about breakfast while--” | |
“Well, then,” said Sampson, “suppose we agree to find him guilty as | |
charged and recommend him to the mercy of the Court.” | |
This was hailed with acclaim. Even No. 7, emerging temporarily from his | |
mental siesta, agreed that that was “a corking idea.” | |
“Find him guilty,” he explained, satisfying himself at least, “and then | |
ask the Court to discharge him. Maybe a little lecture would do him | |
good. A few words of advice--” | |
“And now, gentlemen,” broke in Sampson crisply, “since we have | |
reached the conclusion that we are trying Mr. Hildebrand and not Miss | |
Hildebrand, perhaps we would better have our coffee.” | |
At ten o'clock the jury filed into the courtroom and took their places | |
in the box. Each was conscious of what he was sure must look like a ten | |
days' growth of beard, and each wore the stem, implacable look that is | |
best described as “hang-dog.” | |
A dozen pairs of eyes went on an uneasy journey in quest of an object of | |
dread. She was not there. There were a dozen sighs of relief. Good! If | |
they could only get it over with and escape before she appeared! What | |
was all this delay about? They were ready with their verdict; why should | |
they be kept waiting like this? No wonder men hated serving on juries. | |
The Court came in and took his seat. He looked very stern and | |
forbidding. He looked, thought Sampson, like a man who has been married | |
a great many years and is interested only in his profession. A few days | |
earlier he looked more or less like an unmarried man. | |
“Gentlemen of the jury,” began the Clerk after the roll-call, “have you | |
arrived at a verdict?” | |
“We have,” said No. 1, with an involuntary glance in the direction of | |
the door. | |
The verdict itself was clear and concise enough. “We, the jury, find the | |
defendant, James W. Hildebrand, guilty as charged.” | |
The old man's eyes fell. A quiver ran through his gaunt body. An | |
instant later, however, he sat erect and faced his judges, and a queer, | |
indescribable smile developed slowly at the corners of his mouth. | |
Sampson was watching him closely. Afterwards he thought of this smile | |
as an expression of supreme indulgence. He remembered feeling, at the | |
moment, very cheap and small. | |
Before the defendant's counsel could call for a poll of the jury, | |
No. 1 arose in his place and laboriously addressed the Court. He announced | |
that the jury had a communication to make and asked if this was the | |
proper time to present it. The Court signified his readiness to hear the | |
communication, and No. 1, nervously extracting from his pocket a sheet | |
of note paper, read the following recommendation:--“The jury, having | |
decided in its deliberations that the defendant, James W. Hildebrand, | |
is legally and morally guilty as charged in the indictment, craves | |
the permission of this honourable Court to be allowed to submit a | |
recommendation bearing upon the penalty to be inflicted as the result | |
of the verdict agreed upon. We would respectfully urge the Court to | |
exercise his prerogative and suspend sentence in the case of James | |
W. Hildebrand. The evidence against him is sufficient to warrant | |
conviction, but there are circumstances, we believe, which should | |
operate to no small degree in his favour. His age, his former high | |
standing among men, and his bearing during the course of this trial, | |
commend him to us as worthy of this informal appeal to your Honour's | |
mercy. This communication is offered regardless of our finding and is | |
not meant to prejudice the verdict we have returned. In leaving the | |
defendant in the hands of this Court, we humbly but earnestly petition | |
your Honour to at least grant him the minimum penalty in the event that | |
you do not see fit to act upon our suggestion to suspend sentence.” | |
The document, which was signed by the twelve jurors, had been prepared | |
by Sampson, and it was his foresight that rendered it entirely within | |
the law. He was smart enough not to incorporate it in the finding | |
itself; it was a supplementary instrument which could be accepted or | |
disregarded as the Court saw fit. | |
The Court gazed rather fixedly at the sheet of paper which was passed | |
to him by an attendant. His brow was ruffled. He pulled nervously at his | |
moustache. At last, clearing his throat, he said, addressing the counsel | |
for the defence: | |
“Gentlemen, do you wish to poll the jury?” | |
Mr. O 'Brien waived this formality. He and his partner seemed to be | |
rather well pleased with the verdict. They eyed the Court anxiously, | |
hopefully. | |
“The Court will pronounce sentence on Friday,” announced the justice, | |
his eye on the door. He acted very much like a man who was afraid | |
of being caught in the act of perpetrating something decidedly | |
reprehensible. “I wish to thank the jurors for the careful attention | |
they have given the case and to compliment them on the verdict they have | |
returned in the face of rather trying conditions. It speaks well for the | |
integrity, the soundness of our jury system. I may add, gentlemen, that | |
I shall very seriously consider the recommendation you have made. The | |
prisoner is remanded until next Friday at ten o'clock.” | |
Half an hour later Sampson found himself in the street. He had spent | |
twenty minutes or more loitering about the halls of the Criminal Courts | |
building, his eager gaze sweeping the throng that was forever changing. | |
It searched remote corners and mounted quadruple stairways; it raked the | |
balcony railings one, two and three flights up; it went down other | |
steps toward the street-level floor. And all the while his own gaze was | |
scouting, the anxious eyes of four other gentlemen were doing the same | |
as his: No. 7, No. 8, No. 6 and No. 12. They were all looking for | |
the trim, natty figure and the enchanting face of Miss Alexandra | |
Hildebrand--vainly looking, for she was nowhere to be seen. | |
And when Sampson found himself in the street--(a bitter gale was | |
blowing)--he was attended by two gentlemen who justly might have been | |
identified as his most intimate, bosom friends: the lovesick No. 7 and | |
the predatory No. 12. They had him between them as they wended their | |
way toward the Subway station at Worth Street, and they were smoking | |
his cigars (because he _couldn't_ smoke theirs, notwithstanding their | |
divided hospitality)--and they were talking loudly against time. Sampson | |
had the feeling that they were aiming to attach themselves to him for | |
life. | |
They accepted him as their guiding light, their mentor, their firm | |
example. For all time they would look upon him as a leader of men, and | |
they would be proud to speak of him to older friends as a new friend | |
worth having, worth tying up to, so to say. They seemed only too ready | |
to glorify him, and in doing so gloried in the fact that he was a | |
top-lofty, superior sort of individual who looked down upon them with | |
infinite though gentle scorn. | |
Moreover, they thought, if they kept on the good side of Sampson | |
they might reasonably expect to obtain an occasional glimpse of Miss | |
Alexandra Hildebrand, for, with his keenness and determination, he was | |
sure to pursue an advantage that both of them reluctantly conceded. | |
In the Subway local No. 7 invited Sampson to have lunch with him. He | |
suggested the Vanderbilt, but he wasn't sure whether he'd entertain in | |
the main dining room or in the Della Robbia room. He seemed confused and | |
uncertain about it. No. 12 boisterously intervened. He knew of a nice | |
little place in Forty-second Street where you can get the best oysters | |
in New York. He not only invited Sampson to go there. They clung to him, | |
however, until they reached Times Square Station with him but | |
magnanimously included No. 7, which was more than No. 7 had done for | |
him. | |
Sampson declined. They clung to him, however, until they reached Times | |
Square station. There he said good-bye to them as they left the kiosk. | |
[Illustration: 0113] | |
“Perhaps we may meet again,” he said pleasantly. No. 7 fumbled in his | |
vest pocket and brought forth a soiled business card. | |
“If you ever need anything in the way of electric fixtures or repairing, | |
remember me, Mr. Sampson,” he said. “Telephone and address as per card. | |
Keep it, please. I am in business for myself. The Trans-Continental | |
Electric Supply Emporium.' | |
“Here's my card, Mr. Sampson,” said No. 12. “I'd like to come around | |
and give you a little spiel on our new model some day soon. We're | |
practically sold up as far as December, but I think I can sneak you in | |
ahead--what say?” | |
“I have an automobile, thank you. Two of them, in fact.” He mentioned | |
the make of car that he owned. No. 12 was not disheartened. | |
“You could have fifteen of our cars for the price you paid for | |
yours--one for every other day in the month. Just bear that in mind. A | |
brand new car every second day. Let me see: your address is--” He paused | |
expectantly. | |
“The Harvard Club will reach me any time.” | |
No. 12 started to write it down but paused in the middle of “Harvard” to | |
grasp the extended hand of his new friend. “I fancy you can remember it | |
without writing it down,” went on Sampson, smilingly. | |
“Never trust to memory,” said No. 12 briskly. “This burg is full of | |
clubs and--well, so long!” | |
No. 7 was still troubled about luncheon. “I'm sorry you can't go to the | |
Vanderbilt and have a bite--a sandwich and a stein of beer, say.” No. | |
12 turned to speak to a passing acquaintance, and No. 7 seized the | |
opportunity to whisper tensely: “She's staying there. I followed her | |
three times and she always went to the Vanderbilt. Got off the Subway at | |
Thirty-third Street and--” | |
“She? What she?” demanded Sampson, affecting perplexity. | |
No. 7 was staggered. It was a long time before he could say: “Well, holy | |
Smoke!” And then, as Sampson still waited: “Why, _her_, of course--who | |
else?” | |
Sampson appeared to understand at last. He said: “A ripping good hotel, | |
isn't it?” | |
“A peach,” said No. 7, and then they parted. | |
That evening Sampson dined at the Vanderbilt. At first, like No. 7, he | |
wasn't quite sure whether he would dine upstairs or in the Della Robbia | |
room. He went over the ground very thoroughly before deciding. At eight | |
o'clock he disconsolately selected the main dining-room and ate, without | |
appetite, a lonely but excellent dinner. | |
He wondered if No. 7 could have lied to him. | |
CHAPTER V | |
He also dropped in at the Vanderbilt for lunch on Thursday. | |
Friday morning he was in the court-room, ostensibly to hear sentence | |
pronounced. He sat outside the railing. Seven of his fellow-jurors | |
straggled in as the hour for convening court approached. Sampson found | |
himself flanked by No. 7 and No. 12, the former a trifle winded after a | |
long run from Worth Street. In a hoarse wheeze he informed Sampson that | |
“she'll be here in a minute,” and, sure enough, the words were barely | |
out of his mouth when Alexandra Hildebrand entered the court-room with | |
Mr. O 'Brien. | |
Sampson was shocked by her appearance. She was pale and tired-looking | |
and there were dark circles beneath her wonderful eyes. She looked ill | |
and worn. His heart went out to her. He longed to hold her close and | |
whisper-- | |
“My God!” oozed from No. 7's agonised lips. “She's--she's sick!” | |
Sampson kicked him violently on the shin. “She'll hear you, you | |
blithering idiot,” he grated out. | |
The courtesy of the Court was extended once more to Miss Hildebrand. | |
She was invited to have a seat inside the railing. If she recognised a | |
single one of the eight jurors who sat outside, she failed to betray | |
the fact by sign or deed. The prisoner, a troubled, anxious look in his | |
eyes, entered and took his accustomed seat instead of standing at the | |
foot of the jury box to await sentence. Miss Hildebrand put her arm | |
over his shoulders and brushed his lean old cheek with her lips. He was | |
singularly unmoved by this act of devotion. Sampson glowered. The old | |
man might at least have given her a look of gratitude, a pat of the | |
hand--oh, anything gentle and grandfatherly. But there he sat, as rigid | |
as an oak, his gaze fixed on the Court, his body hunched forward in an | |
attitude of suspense. He was not thinking of Alexandra. | |
Hildebrand arose when his name was called, and it was plain that he | |
maintained his composure only by the greatest exertion of the will. | |
Sampson watched him curiously. He had the feeling that the old man would | |
collapse if the Court's decision proved severe. | |
The customary questions and answers followed, the old man responding in | |
a voice barely audible to those close by. | |
“The Court, respecting the wishes of the jurors who tried and found you | |
guilty, James Hildebrand, is inclined to be merciful. It is the judgment | |
of this Court that the penalty in your case shall be fixed at two years' | |
imprisonment, but in view of the recommendation presented here and | |
because of your previous reputation for integrity and the fact that you | |
voluntarily surrendered yourself to justice, sentence is suspended.” | |
Other remarks by the Court followed, but Sampson did not hear them. | |
His whole attention was centred on Alexandra Hildebrand. Her slim body | |
straightened up, her eyes brightened, and a heavenly smile transfigured | |
her face. | |
Sampson felt like cheering! | |
A few minutes later she passed him in the rotunda. For an instant their | |
eyes met. There was a deep, searching expression in hers. Suddenly a | |
deep flush covered her smooth cheek and her eyes fell. She hurried past, | |
and he, stock-still with wonder and joy over this astounding exposition | |
of confusion on her part, failed utterly to pursue an advantage that | |
would have been seized upon with alacrity by the atavistic No. 12. He | |
allowed her to escape! | |
[Illustration: 0123] | |
Aroused to action too late, he bolted after her, only to see her enter | |
a waiting taxi-cab and--yes, she _did_ look back over her shoulder. | |
She knew he would follow! He raised his hat, and he was sure that she | |
smiled--faintly, it is true, but still she smiled. If he hoped that she | |
would condescend to alter her course, he was doomed to disappointment. | |
The driver obeyed his original instructions and shot off in the | |
direction of Lafayette Street. | |
The memory of her tribute--a blush and a fleeting smile--was to linger | |
with Sampson for many a weary, watchful day. | |
The taxi-cab--a noisy, ungentle abomination--was whirling her corporeal | |
loveliness out of his reach and vision with exasperating swiftness, | |
leaving him high and dry in an endless, barren desert. His heart gave | |
a tremendous jump when a traffic policeman stopped the car at the | |
corner above. He set forth as fast as his long legs could carry him with | |
dignity, hoping and praying that the officer would be as slow and as | |
stubborn about--But she must have looked into the fellow's eyes and | |
smiled, for, with surprising amiability, he signified that she was | |
to proceed. Apparently he was too dazzled to reprimand or caution the | |
driver, for the taxi went forward at an increased speed. | |
Some one touched Sampson's elbow. He withdrew his gaze from the | |
vanishing taxi-cab and allowed it to rest in sheer amazement upon the | |
bleak countenance of No. 7. | |
“She's going away,” said No. 7 in sepulchral tones. | |
“Evidently,” said Sampson. “Exceeding the speed limit while she is about | |
it, too.” | |
“I mean,” said the other, “she's going to take a long journey. She's | |
leaving New York! That taxi is full of satchels and valises and stuff, | |
and the driver has orders to get her to the Hudson tube by eleven | |
o'clock. I heard that much anyhow, hangin' around here. Say, do you know | |
there is another woman in that cab with her? There sure is. I saw her | |
plain as day. Kind of an old woman with two or three little satchels and | |
one of them dinky white dogs in her lap.” | |
“A lady's maid,” said Sampson. | |
“Where do you suppose she's going?” | |
“How should I know?” demanded Sampson severely. | |
“And why is she running away without grandpa? What's going to become of | |
the old man? Seems as though she'd ought to hang around until he's--” | |
“I daresay she knows what she is doing,” said Sampson, disturbed by the | |
same thoughts. | |
“Maybe he's going to join her later on?” hopefully. “Over in Jersey | |
somewhere.” | |
“Very likely. Good-bye.” Sampson wrung the limp hand of No. 7 and made | |
off toward Broadway. | |
He lunched with a friend at the Lawyers' Club. In the smoking room | |
afterwards, he came face to face with the assistant district attorney | |
who had prosecuted the case of James Hildebrand. His friend exclaimed: | |
“Hello, Wilks! You ought to know Mr. Sampson. He's been under your nose | |
for a week or ten days.” | |
Wilks grinned as he shook hands with the exjuror. “Glad to know you as | |
Mr. Sampson, sir, and not as No. 3. We had a rather interesting week, of | |
it, didn't we?” | |
Sampson was surprised to find that he rather liked the good-humoured | |
twinkle in Wilks's eyes. He had thoroughly disapproved of him up to this | |
instant. Now he appeared as a mild, pleasant-voiced young man with a far | |
from vindictive eye and a singularly engaging smile. Departing from his | |
rôle as prosecutor, Wilks succeeded in becoming an uncommonly decent | |
fellow. | |
“Interesting, to say the least,” replied Sampson. | |
Wilks had coffee with them, and a cigar. | |
“I must say, Mr. Sampson, that you jurors had something out of the | |
ordinary to contend with. There isn't the remotest doubt that old | |
Hildebrand is guilty, and yet there was a wave of sympathy for him that | |
extended to all of us, enveloped us, so to speak. At the outset, we were | |
disposed to go easy with him, realising that we had a dead open and shut | |
case against him. | |
“We awoke to our danger when the trial was half over. That is to say, we | |
awoke to the fact that Miss Alexandra Hildebrand was likely to upset the | |
whole pot of beans for us. You have no idea what we sometimes have to | |
contend with. There is nothing so difficult to fight against as the | |
force of feminine appeal. Men are simple things, you see. We boast about | |
our righteous strength of purpose, but along comes a gentle, frail bit | |
of womanhood and we find ourselves--well, up in the air! Miss Hildebrand | |
had a decidedly agreeable effect on all of us. It is only natural that | |
she should. We realised what it all meant to her, and I daresay there | |
wasn't one of us who relished the thought of hurting her. | |
“Her devotion was really quite beautiful,” observed Sampson, feeling | |
that he had to put himself on record. | |
“I understand how you jurors felt about her and, through her, about the | |
old man. The State is satisfied to let him off as you recommended. It is | |
more than likely that he was badly treated in those deals with Stevens | |
and Drew, and if he can rehabilitate himself I think we will have | |
done well not to oppose leniency. At any rate, his granddaughter has | |
something to rejoice over, even though she may have been shocked by your | |
decision that he is guilty.” | |
“What do you know about her, Mr. Wilks?” inquired Sampson. | |
“Nothing in particular. She is an orphan, as you know, and I understand | |
she has been residing with her grandfather in Switzerland. She returned | |
to this country with him at the time of his voluntary surrender three | |
months ago. His bail was fixed at twenty thousand dollars, and she tried | |
to raise it, but failed. She has been trying to sell his Bronx property, | |
but, of course, that sort of thing takes time. I understand that a deal | |
is about to be closed, however, thanks to her untiring efforts, and | |
the old man may realise handsomely after all. I suppose the Cornwallis | |
Realty and Investment Company will bring civil action to regain the | |
fifty thousand lost through his defection. If he is sensible he will | |
restore the amount and--well, that will be the end of it.” | |
“Why didn't he sell it long ago?” | |
“He couldn't very well manage it without coming to New York, and he was | |
so closely watched that he couldn't do that without running a very great | |
risk. Evidently she, believing absolutely in his innocence, induced him | |
to give himself up and have his name cleared of the stigma that was upon | |
it. This is mere conjecture, of course.” | |
“Well, she's a brick, at any rate,” said Sampson, with some enthusiasm. | |
Wilks smiled. “That verdict, at least, is universal. Justice, however, | |
has miscarried in more cases than I care to mention, simply because some | |
little woman proves herself to be a brick. No doubt you will recall any | |
number of such cases right here in New York. If we had had the remotest | |
idea what Miss Hildebrand was like, we would have put up a strenuous | |
kick against her sitting beside the prisoner where you all could see | |
and be seen. She made it hard for you to convict the old man, and she | |
certainly wormed the recommendation to the Court out of you. To tell you | |
the truth, we feared an acquittal. When the jury stayed out all night I | |
said to myself: 'We're licked, sure as shooting. 'The best we looked | |
for was a disagreement. I've been told that the first half dozen ballots | |
stood eleven to one for acquittal. So you see, I wasn't far off in my | |
surmise. It has taught me a lesson. There will be no more attractive, | |
thoroughly upsetting young ladies to cast spells over judge, jury, and | |
lawyers if I can help it. I hope you will pardon me for saying it, Mr. | |
Sampson, but I am firmly convinced if there had been no Miss Alexandra | |
Hildebrand in the case you gentlemen would have brought in your verdict | |
in twenty minutes.” | |
“I suppose you know that I am the one who stood out against the eleven,” | |
said Sampson. | |
“I suspected as much. I don't mind saying that the State counted on you, | |
Mr. Sampson.” Sampson started. How was this? The State counted on him | |
also? Suddenly he flushed. | |
“I had a notion that Miss Hildebrand counted on me, Mr. Wilks.” | |
“She did,” said the lawyer. “I think she lost a little of her | |
confidence, however, as the trial progressed. She appeared to be | |
devoting nearly all of her energies to you. You, apparently, were the | |
one who had to be subdued, if you will forgive the term. She is the | |
cleverest, shrewdest young woman I've ever seen. She is the best judge | |
of men that I've ever encountered--far and away better than I or any one | |
connected with our office. When that jury was completed I realised, | |
with a sort of shock, that it was she who selected it. She made but one | |
mistake--and that was in you. There is where we were smarter than she. | |
I knew that you would do the right thing by us, in spite of your very | |
palpable efforts to get off. If there had been some one else in your | |
place, Mr. Sampson, James Hildebrand would have been acquitted.” | |
“Possibly,” said Sampson, with a sinking of the heart. He felt like a | |
Judas! She had made but one mistake, and it was fatal! | |
“As I was saying,” went on Wilks, blowing rings toward the ceiling, | |
“women play thunder with us sometimes. A friend of mine from Chicago | |
dined with me last night. He is in the State's Attorney's office out | |
there and he's down here on business. You ought to hear him on the | |
subject of women mixing up in criminal cases. He says it's fatal--if | |
they're pretty and appealing. Nine times out of ten they have more | |
nerve, more character and a good deal more intelligence than the average | |
juryman, and Mr. Juror is like wax in their hands. Take a case they | |
had out there last fall--the Brownley case--you read about it, perhaps. | |
Young fellow from Louisiana got into bad company in Chicago, and went | |
all wrong. Gambled and then had to rob his employers to get square with | |
the world. His father and sister came up from New Orleans and made a | |
fight for him. They got the best legal talent in town, and then little | |
sister sat beside brother and petted him from time to time. A cinch! The | |
jury was out an hour. Not guilty! See what I mean? And you remember | |
the Paris case a year or two ago when the detectives nabbed a couple | |
of international card sharks and bunco men after they had worked the | |
Atlantic for two years straight without being landed? French juries | |
tried 'em separately. One of them got five years and the other got off | |
scot free. Why? Because his pretty young wife turned up and--well, you | |
know the French! Woman is lovely in her place, but her place isn't in | |
the court-room unless she favours the prosecution.” | |
“They're like good-looking nurses,” said Sampson's friend. “They make a | |
chap forget everything else.” | |
“Same principle,” said Wilks. “Patients and juries are much the same. | |
They require careful nursing.” | |
Sampson was like a lost soul during the weeks that followed the trial. | |
The hundred and one distractions he sought in the feverish effort to | |
drive Alexandra Hildebrand out of his thoughts failed of their purpose. | |
They only left him more eager than before. He longed for a glimpse of | |
her adorable face, for a single look into her eyes, for the smile she | |
had promised as she rode away from him, for the sheer fragrance of her | |
unapproachable beauty. She filled his heart and brain, and she was lost | |
to him. | |
The most depressing fits of jealousy overtook him. He tried to reason | |
with himself. Why shouldn't she have a sweetheart? Why shouldn't she be | |
in love with some one? What else could he expect--in heaven's name, what | |
else? Of course there was one among all the hundreds who adored her that | |
she could adore in return. Still he was sick with jealousy. He hated | |
even the possibility that there was a man living who could claim her as | |
his own. | |
At the end of a month of resolute inactivity, he threw off all restraint | |
and inaugurated a determined though innocuous search for her. He made it | |
his business to stroll up and down Fifth Avenue during the fashionable | |
hours of the day, and so frantic were his efforts to discover her in the | |
shifting throngs that he always went home with a headache, bone-weary | |
and appetiteless. His alert, all-enveloping gaze swept the avenue from | |
Thirty-fourth Street to Fiftieth at least twice a day, and by night it | |
raked the theatres and restaurants with an assiduity that rendered him | |
an impossible companion for friends who were so unfortunate as to be | |
involved in his prowlings. His lack of concentration, except in one | |
pursuit, was woful. His friends were annoyed, and justly. No one likes | |
inattention. Half the time he didn't hear a word they were saying to | |
him, and the other half they were resentfully silent. | |
He invaded Altman's, McCreery's, Lord & Taylor's and the other big | |
shops, buying things that he did not want, and he entered no end of | |
fashionable millinery establishments--and once a prominent corset | |
concern--not for the sake of purchasing, of course, but always with the | |
manner of an irritated gentleman looking for an inconsiderate wife. | |
This determined effort to ferret out Miss Hildebrand was due to a | |
report from No. 7, on whom he called one day in regard to an electrical | |
disturbance in his apartment. No. 7 told him that No. 4, who was the | |
proprietor of a plumbing establishment in Amsterdam Avenue, had seen | |
Miss Hildebrand on top of a passing Fifth Avenue stage. By means of some | |
remarkable sprinting No. 4, fortunately an unmarried man, overtook the | |
stage at the corner above (Forty-fifth Street and Fifth Avenue), and | |
climbed aboard. Just as he sat down, all out of breath, two seats behind | |
the young lady, she got off and entered Sloane's. No. 4 had a short | |
argument with the conductor about paying fare for a ride of two blocks, | |
but it was long enough to carry him to the corner above Sloane's, so that | |
when he got back to the big shop she was lost. | |
He was not discouraged. Saying that he was waiting for his wife he | |
continued to invest the approach to the elevators with such success that | |
after nearly an hour (and an hour as computed by plumbers is no small | |
matter) he was rewarded by the appearance of Miss Hildebrand. | |
Without notifying the floorwalkers that he couldn't wait any longer for | |
his wife, he made off after the young lady, leaving them to think, if | |
they thought at all, that his wife was a very beautiful person who had | |
married considerably beneath her station. Miss Hildebrand waited at | |
the corner for a stage. No. 4 already had squandered ten cents, but he | |
didn't allow that to stand in the way of further adventure. He had his | |
dime ready when the 'bus came along--in fact, he had two dimes ready, | |
for it was his secret hope that she would recognise him. But alas! There | |
was room for but one more passenger, and he was left standing on the | |
curb, while she went rattling up the avenue in what he reckoned to be | |
the swiftest 'bus in the service. | |
Sampson's deductions were clear. She wouldn't be shopping at Sloane's | |
unless she was buying furnishings of some sort for a house, and it was | |
reasonable to suppose that the house was somewhere within reach of the | |
stage line route. No. 4 had failed to note, however, whether she took | |
a Riverside Drive or a Fifth Avenue stage. Although Sampson was not in | |
need of a plumber's services, he looked up No. 4 and had him send men | |
around to inspect the drain in the kitchen sink. It cost him nearly | |
twelve dollars to have a five minutes' profitless interview with the | |
master-plumber. | |
It was at this time that he began his pilgrimages up and down Fifth | |
Avenue, and it was also about this time that he acknowledged himself to | |
be a drivelling, silly, sentimental idiot--worse even than the drooping | |
No. 7. | |
In the course of his investigations he dropped in to see No. 8 at the | |
hat store; he talked insurance with No. 11 (and forever afterward had it | |
talked with him, despite all the pains he took to stop it); he ordered a | |
suit of clothes at the tailor shop of No. 6; and he even went so far as | |
to consult No. 1 about having his piano tuned, a proceeding which called | |
for the immediate acquisition of an instrument. (It occurred to him, | |
however, that it might prove to be money well spent, for any man who is | |
thinking of getting married ought to have a grand piano if he can afford | |
it.) | |
One day, overcoming an aversion, he sauntered up to a place in Broadway | |
and inquired for No. 12. To his amazement, No. 12 seemed a bit hazy as | |
to the existence of such a person as Miss Hildebrand. It was some time | |
before the fellow could call her to mind, and then only when the trial | |
was mentioned. | |
“Ah, yes,” said he, rapping his brow soundly, “I get you now. The pretty | |
little thing we saw at the trial. Lord, man, how long ago was that? Two | |
months? Well, say, I've seen a couple or three since then that make | |
her look like a last year's bird's-nest. I'm demonstrating for a little | |
cutey in the Follies just at present and she has Miss Hildebrand lashed | |
to the mast. Yellow hair and eyes as blue as--What's your hurry? I'm not | |
busy--got all kinds of time.” | |
But Sampson “walked out on him,” raging inwardly. It was all he could | |
do to conquer an impulse to kick No. 12. Comparing Alexandra Hildebrand | |
with a “little cutey in the Follies”! And forgetting her, too! | |
Unspeakable! | |
He discovered James Hildebrand a day or two later. The old man was | |
living in a small hotel just off Broadway, in the upper Forties. An | |
actor friend of Sampson's was living in the same hotel, and it was | |
through him that he learned that Hildebrand had been stopping there for | |
nearly two months, quite alone. A surprisingly pretty young woman had | |
called to see him on two or three occasions. According to Sampson's | |
informant, the old gentleman had just concluded a real estate deal | |
running into the hundreds of thousands and was soon to return to Europe. | |
This was most regrettable, lamented the actor, for he couldn't remember | |
ever having seen a prettier girl than Hildebrand's visitor--who, he had | |
found out at the desk, was a relative of some description. | |
A simple process would have been to interview old Mr. Hildebrand, | |
but Sampson's pride and good-breeding proved sufficiently strong and | |
steadfast in the crisis. He held himself aloof. | |
A week later he saw Mr. Hildebrand off on one of the trans-Atlantic | |
liners. Mr. Hildebrand was not aware of the fact that he was being seen | |
off by any one, however, and Sampson was quite positively certain that | |
no one else was there for the purpose. There was no sign of Alexandra. | |
He went abroad that summer.... Early in the autumn he was back in New | |
York, resolved to be a fool no longer. No doubt she had married the chap | |
she loved--and was living happily, contentedly in luxurious splendour | |
supplied by Sloane's--as long ago, no doubt, as the early spring it may | |
have happened. | |
His heart had once ached for her as an orphan, but all that would now be | |
altered if she had taken unto herself a husband. Somehow one ceases to | |
be an orphan the instant one marries. You never think of a fatherless | |
and motherless wife as an orphan. An orphan is some one you are expected | |
to feel sorry for. | |
He never had thought of himself as an orphan, although his father and | |
mother had been dead for years. No one ever had been sorry for him | |
because he was an orphan. What is it that supplies pity for one sex and | |
not for the other? | |
January found him in California. A year ago he had planned--Alas, | |
his thoughts were ever prone to leap backward to the events of a year | |
ago--back to the twentieth day of January. He would never forget it. On | |
that day he first looked upon the loveliest of all God's creatures. The | |
year had not dimmed his vision. He could see her still as plainly as on | |
that memorable January day when they “landed” him. | |
He wanted to see her once more, married or single, just to tell her that | |
it was conscience that caused him to fail her in her hour of need. He | |
wanted her to understand. He wanted her to believe that he couldn't help | |
being honest, and he wanted very much to hear her say that he did the | |
only thing an honourable gentleman could possibly do. | |
Wending his way northward, he came to San Francisco late in February, | |
and there fell into the open arms of several classmates whom he had not | |
seen since his college days. One of them was Jimmy Dorr, now a brilliant | |
editor and journalist. To him he related the story of the Hildebrand | |
trial, and the fruitless quest of the girl he still dreamed about. Jimmy | |
was vastly interested. He was a romanticist. His eyes glittered with | |
excitement. | |
“By Jove, it's a corker!” he exclaimed, breathlessly. | |
“A corker?” repeated Sampson, staring. | |
“Corking idea for a novel, that's what I mean. Why, you couldn't beat it | |
if you sat down and thought day and night for ten years. Ideas, that's | |
what the novelists want. The only thing that has kept me from breaking | |
into the literary game is an absolute paucity of--ideas. And here | |
you are handing me one. I shall write a novel. I'll have you find her | |
imprisoned in a dungeon by the conniving grandparent--” | |
“Or by a rascally husband,” put in Sampson, gloomily. | |
Dorr became thoughtful. “By the way, we've been having a more or less | |
notable trial here for the past week and a half. Lot of interest in it | |
all over the country. Have you heard of the Rodriguez ease?” | |
“Not yet,” said Sampson, resignedly. “Fire away. I 'll listen.” | |
“The arguments to the jury will be concluded to-morrow morning and there | |
ought to be a verdict before night. How would you like to go around | |
there with me at ten o 'clock and hear the State's closing argument? I | |
can manage it easily, although it's hard to get tickets. In a word, it | |
is the most popular show in town. Standing room only. Come along, and | |
I'll bet my head you'll never forget the experience.” | |
“I hate a court-room,” said Sampson. | |
“Well, you won't hate this one. I've been dropping in every day for an | |
hour or so, and, by gad, it _is_ interesting.” A faraway, dreamy look | |
came into Dorr's spectacled eyes. “Rodriguez is a wonderful character. | |
You see such chaps only in books and plays--seldom in plays, however, | |
for you couldn't find actors to look the part. He is a Spaniard, a | |
native of Mexico City, and as lofty as any grandee you'd find in old | |
Granada itself. Private detectives caught him in Tokio last summer, | |
after a world-wide search of three years. He is charged with forgery. | |
Forged a deed to some property in Berkeley and got away with the | |
proceeds of the sale. He stubbornly maintains that the deed was a | |
bona-fide instrument, and is fighting tooth and nail against the people | |
who accuse him. I 'd like to have you see him, Sampy.” | |
The next morning, a bit bored but conscious of a thrill of interest | |
in attending a trial in the capacity of spectator instead of talesman, | |
Sampson accompanied the editor to the court-room where the case of | |
the State vs. Victoriana Rodriguez was being heard. The corridors | |
and approaches were packed with people. A subdued buzz of excitement | |
pervaded the air. Every face in the throng revealed the ultimate of | |
eagerness, each body was charged with a muscular ambition to crowd past | |
the obstructing bodies before it. Sampson had never witnessed anything | |
like this before. He demurred. | |
“See here, Jimmy, I refuse to surge with a mob like this. Good-bye, old | |
man. See you--” | |
But Dorr conducted him to the private entrance to the judge's chambers, | |
and a few minutes later into the crowded court-room. They found places | |
behind the row of reporters and stood with their backs to the wall. | |
The jury was in the box, awaiting the opening of court. Sampson surveyed | |
them with some interest. They were a youngish lot of men and, to his way | |
of thinking, about as far from intelligent as the average New York jury. | |
They looked dazed, bewildered and distinctly uncomfortable. He knew how | |
they were feeling--no one knew better than he! | |
The prisoner entered, followed by his counsel, and took his seat. | |
Sampson favoured Dorr with a smile of derision. Rodriguez was a most | |
ordinary looking fellow--swarthy, unimposing and at least sixty years | |
of age. He was not at all Sampson's conception of a Spanish grandee. | |
Certainly he was not the sort of chap an author would put into a book | |
with the expectation of having his readers accept him as a hero. | |
“Good Lord, Jimmy, is _that_ the marvellous character you've been | |
talking about!” whispered the New Yorker. “Why, he's just a plain, | |
ordinary greaser. Nothing lofty about him.” | |
But Jimmy didn't hear. He was gazing in rapt eagerness over the heads | |
of the seated throng outside the railing. Sampson leaned forward and | |
whispered something to the reporter from Dorr's paper. He repeated the | |
remark, receiving no response the first time. The young fellow's reply, | |
when it came, was what Sampson, from his vast experience in law courts, | |
summed up as “totally irrelevant and not pertinent to the case.” | |
Somewhat annoyed, he turned to Jimmy Dorr. That gentleman's gaze was | |
fixed, so Sampson followed it. A young woman had taken the seat beside | |
the prisoner. He could not see her face, but something told him that it | |
was attractive--and then he was suddenly interested in the way her dark | |
hair grew about her neck and ears. Dorr was whispering: | |
“She's the most wonderful thing you ever laid eyes on, Sampy. Wait | |
till you get a good peek at her face. You'll forget your old Miss | |
Hill-obeans. She landed here about a month ago, straight from Spain, | |
where she has been in a convent since she was fourteen. Doesn't speak a | |
word of English--not a syllable, the reporters say. She--Hey! Sh! What | |
the devil's the matter with you!” | |
Sampson had uttered a very audible exclamation. He was staring at her | |
with widespread, glazed, unbelieving eyes. She had turned to favour the | |
reporters with a wistful, shy, entrancing “good morning” smile, and he | |
looked once more upon the face he had never forgotten and would never | |
forget. | |
“My God!” he whispered, grasping Dorr's arm in a grip that caused his | |
friend to wince. “Why, it's--Not a word of English! A month ago! Out of | |
a convent!” He was babbling weakly. His brain was not working. | |
“Is it too hot in here for you, old man!” whispered Dorr, alarmed. | |
“Shall we get out! You look as though--” | |
“Who is she!” gasped Sampson. | |
Dorr looked triumphant. “I thought she'd bowl you over. But, my Lord, I | |
didn't dream she'd give you such a jolt as this. The whole damned | |
bunch of us has gone mad over her. She's old Rodriguez's daughter--the | |
Senorita Isabella Consuelo Maria Rodriguez.” | |
THE END | |
End of Project Gutenberg's The Light that Lies, by George Barr McCutcheon | |
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