THE TRIAL.
It was the second day of the trial.
The atmosphere of the Court was stifling, and as the counsel for the
prosecution sat down a deep buzz of conversation and scuffling of feet
instantly succeeded the tense silence which had been maintained during
his speech.
The judge left the bench, and every one in Court rose. It was exactly
ten minutes to five by the clock over the door. The counsel for the
prosecution had spoken for just twenty minutes. The public struggled
through the door, intent upon tea.
"Poor devil, not much chance for him after that!" "Oh, he's guilty all
right! Did you notice the jury's faces?" "G'on! we ain't 'eard t'
other side yet." "Did yer notice the bloomin' judge? What I calls a
'anging face, 'e's got!"
The crowd elbowed and jostled its way into the street, where the
newsboys were shouting "Special edition! Great fraud case--full
account."
The barristers were collecting their papers, and Mr. Marshall touched
John Dale on the shoulder: "Come on, Mr. Dale, we will go and have a cup
of tea together at my own special tea-room. It is only just across the
road!"
The old man had sat beside his son's counsel throughout the long day,
and as witness succeeded witness and the chain of evidence grew
stronger, his face became sterner and sterner, and when the eminent
K.C., who represented the Crown, had reviewed it, taking each link in
turn and cleverly wielding the whole into one perfect piece--there
seemed not a flaw in the chain of evidence against the prisoner. He was
already condemned, and it seemed to the old man that even he could no
longer believe in his innocence.
Mr. Marshall had watched the old man all day, and his kindly heart had
been touched by his loneliness and obvious grief. He felt it would be
cruel to let him go to his lonely lodgings without doing something to
counteract the effect, which the case for the prosecution was bound to
leave on the mind of one who was totally ignorant of Law Court methods.
So, after removing his wig and gown, he steered the old man across the
crowded Strand into the snug little tea-room. When the pretty,
ribbon-bedecked Hebe had placed the pot of fragrant _bohe_ and plate of
hot muffins between them, Mr. Marshall spoke:
"Well, Mr. Dale, what do you think of the prosecution?"
The old man sipped his tea, and carefully put down his cup before he
replied: "I'm afraid it looks very black for my poor boy. I hardly know
what to think. Do you know, sir, that last speech absolutely shook my
faith in Rupert's innocence; what, then, must be its effect on the
Judge!"
Mr. Marshall laughed heartily. "Good gracious, Mr. Dale, you must not
take anything he said seriously; and, besides, it is the jury, not the
Judge, that matters. It will be my turn to-morrow. You have not heard
the other side yet."
The old man looked up quickly. "Do you really think there is still
hope, sir?"
"Hope, Mr. Dale! I am hoping to-morrow to completely pulverise my
learned friend, Mathews. Why, bless me! he entirely ignored the fact
that the man who sent the cheque to the bank has not yet been found,
while the woman, Ruby Strode, who actually received the money, is also
not forthcoming. My dear sir, these two facts alone,
when--ahem!--skilfully handled, are quite enough to damn the case for
the prosecution! Remember this: In English law a man is innocent until
he has been proved guilty. I admit there are many very suspicious
circumstances, which our learned friend made the most of; but there has
been no direct evidence in proof adduced, and that is our strong point.
The evidence to-day, however strong, was purely circumstantial. Mind, I
do not say as things stand at present that there is no danger of an
adverse verdict; but I do say that we have a good case. I wish we could
find that young woman. I feel certain that her evidence would go far to
clear your son."
"You have greatly relieved my mind," Dale sighed, "for I was feeling
very down about it; and now I must be getting back to my rooms. I
wonder if I can get a 'bus to Bloomsbury?"
"You are a stranger to London, and it would be most unsafe for you to
try to find your way by 'bus. A taxi will only cost you a shilling.
Come along, and I will see you safely off."
As the taxi drove off with John Dale, a boy handed Mr. Marshall a
telegram:
"The caretaker sent me across with this, sir, as he thought it might be
important."
Mr. Marshall nodded, and tore open the envelope.
"Miss Strode here now; can you come at once? Very important.--REDWAY."
Mr. Marshall's face lit up with excitement. The solicitors were only in
Chancery Lane, so he decided to walk. Just as he passed the Griffin he
found himself on the edge of a large crowd, and he had some difficulty
in forcing his way through; so he did not notice that it was caused by
an accident. A taxi-cab and a motor-bus had collided, and apparently
some one had been injured, for a police ambulance was arriving. When he
got clear of the crowd he hurried on, little thinking who it was being
lifted on to the ambulance.
* * * * *
John Dale had never been in a taxi-cab before, and when the kindly
barrister had shaken his hand and told the driver the address, he lay
back with a sigh of satisfaction on the luxurious cushions and resigned
himself to enjoy his first drive. It was marvellous to him how the cab
managed to dodge in and out of the heavy traffic; more than once the
driver stopped with a jerk that nearly sent him off his seat, but he
supposed this was the usual experience in London.
Presently he saw a policeman ahead put up his hand, but the driver
dashed on across the front of a big omnibus that was coming down at
right angles from another street. In a moment there was a crash, he
felt himself hurled into space and knew no more until he found himself
lying in a strange bed, and saw a white-capped woman bending over him.
"Are you feeling better now?" she asked.
His head was aching, and when he raised his hand to it, he found it
swathed in bandages: he closed his eyes and asked what had happened.
"You must not talk, but just try and go to sleep," the nurse said. "You
have met with an accident, but you will soon be all right."
"Ah! I remember now! The taxi-cab. Yes!" And again he closed his
eyes, and the nurse stole softly away.
It was late the next morning when he awoke to find the doctor bending
over him.
"Well! You have had a good sleep," he said. "How are you feeling now?"
"I am aching all over, but my head is better, thank you. Where am
I?--and what time is it?"
"You are in Charing Cross Hospital, and it is just half-past ten in the
morning."
Suddenly he remembered. This was the hour he ought to have been in
Court to see his son's honour cleared.
"I must get up," he cried. "I have an important engagement, and am late
already."
The doctor smiled. "I am afraid that is impossible. You have broken
your leg, and it will be several weeks before you will be able to walk
again."
He thought for a few moments, then asked if he could send a telegram. A
form was brought him, and with a trembling hand he wrote the message.
* * * * *
The Court was packed from floor to ceiling when Rupert entered the dock
between two warders. Not only were most of his fellow students present,
but also a number of the chorus ladies from the Ingenue Theatre, who
were sprinkled among the crowd, conspicuous by their bizarre hats and
ultra-fashionable costumes. He at once noticed that his father was not
at the counsels' table, and wondered that he should be late. The
jurymen were already in their places, and immediately, on the judge
taking his seat, Mr. Marshall rose and opened the case for the defence.
"My Lord and gentlemen of the jury--yesterday you heard the case for the
prosecution, and the long chain of circumstantial evidence that all went
to show the guilt of the prisoner at the bar. Had I known yesterday the
facts I am about to put before you, I need scarcely say I should have
interposed at once, and so saved a wasted day. We now have a complete
answer to the charge--the best answer possible--the person who altered
the cheque has come forward at the eleventh hour and has made a full
confession."
A loud burst of conversation mingled with applause greeted this dramatic
announcement, and when the ushers had secured silence the Judge spoke:
"If there is any repetition of this most improper demonstration, I shall
clear the Court."
Mr. Mathew was already on his feet. "My Lord, may I ask my learned
friend if he proposes to put in a written confession?"
Mr. Marshall signified assent.
"Then, m' Lord, I must object."
Mr. Marshall, who was still standing, replied at once: "It is an
affidavit, my Lord, and as such is legal evidence."
"I object, m' Lord!" Mr. Mathew interposed.
"Will you state the grounds of your objection?" the Judge said.
"Certainly, m' Lord; I am instructed that the person who has executed
the affidavit is merely an accomplice of the prisoner at the bar, and
their relationship is such as to warrant the gravest doubts of its
genuine nature. I am instructed, m' Lord, not to accept this
confession, and I must insist on my right to cross-examine, if this
affidavit is put in."
"Are you prepared to call this witness, Mr. Marshall?"
"I am in your Lordship's hands; if your Lordship rules that I cannot put
in this affidavit without, I have no alternative."
A buzz of conversation was instantly suppressed by a loud cry of
"Silence in Court!" from the usher.
The Judge replied: "I so rule. Let the witness be called!"
"Ruby Strode!" Mr. Marshall said in a loud voice.
"Ruby Strode!" came the stentorious tones of the usher.
Every eye was turned to the door by which witnesses enter, and the
strain of expectancy was intensified by a second loud call, "Ruby
Strode!" followed a moment later by sounds of scuffling feet and eager
whispers, as a slight figure, wearing a small toque, and thick veil,
came through the door, and quickly made her way to the witness-box.
Rupert, who was clutching the rail in front of him, was white to the
lips; and the Judge, noticing his condition, ordered a chair to be given
him, and he at once sank on to it gratefully. He was stunned by the
course things had taken, for Mr. Marshall had purposely kept the news of
Ruby's return from him, fearing the consequences.
Was this the reason his father was absent? But no! surely the joy at
the proof of his innocence would overcome any resentment he might feel
at his secret engagement.
He dared not meet Ruby's eyes--with every one watching them so intently.
He was furious with his counsel, and determined to prevent Ruby
convicting herself at all costs. He drank in every word, and his brain
was busy endeavouring to see how he could defeat her loving sacrifice,
and prevent her confession from being her ruin. She had taken the oath,
given her name and calling, and was now listening to the reading of her
affidavit by Mr. Marshall. When he had finished he handed it to the
Judge, and asked her a few questions, to which she replied in
monosyllables.
Presently he asked her: "Did you see Mr. Despard that day?"
"Yes."
"Did he see the cheque in your hand?"
"I object, m' Lord!" said Mr. Mathews.
"I am not leading," replied Mr. Marshall.
"I submit it is a leading question, m' Lord, and, further, that it is
not evidence, unless my learned friend intends to call Mr. Despard."
"Will you put your questions in another form, Mr. Marshall?"
"Certainly, my Lord, though I had no intention of leading at all. Did
you have anything in your hand when Mr. Despard called?"
"Yes," said Ruby, "the cheque."
"Did he see it?"
"I object!"--from Mr. Mathews.
"Really, my Lord, I must protest at this continual interruption," Mr.
Marshall said.
The Judge interposed, and the question was put in another form.
"Do you think he saw the cheque in your hand?"
"Yes, I feel sure he did."
Mr. Marshall at last finished, and Mr. Mathews at once rose and
cross-examined. His questions were very searching; he asked about her
engagement to Rupert, and she admitted with pride that she loved him
devotedly.
"Yes, she was deeply affected by his present position--she knew he was
innocent."
"Supposing he had been guilty--she would willingly take his place?"
"Yes."
"There was no sacrifice too great to make for him--her future husband?"
"None."
"She had come to-day with no other object than to save him?"
"Yes," Ruby replied again. "That is why I made the affidavit now before
the Court."
Then the counsel's manner, entirely changed, and instead of leading her
easily and pleasantly with smiling questions that she had only to agree
to with an eager "Yes," he began to ask her questions which she found it
difficult to answer at all; and presently he made her contradict
herself.
"Now, please be careful, Miss Strode; you distinctly told us just now
that you wrote the note to the bank asking them to give the money to the
messenger boy, and now you say that it was written by the prisoner.
What are we to understand?"
Poor Ruby was by now thoroughly frightened, and hardly knew what she was
saying. "I--I mean Mr. Dale wrote it for us, and I sent it. You see, I
did not want him to get into trouble!"
"Oh! So you knew he would get into trouble if he was found out?"
"Yes, of course--I mean--that is--Oh, dear, you know he did not do it,
and I swear I did it all--all myself. Oh, Rupert, Rupert, they won't
believe me after all!" She burst into a storm of tears.
Mr. Mathews sat down with a significant smile at the jury, and Ruby was
led sobbing out of Court.
"Robert Despard!"
He stepped into the box--dressed in a dark tweed suit--cut in the newest
fashion--the latest thing in ties, and a blue velour hat in his hand.
He might have stepped out of a tailor's fashion plate, which accurately
described his appearance as "Smart Gents. The latest!"
He looked round the Court quite at his ease, and nodded to a friend
whose eye he caught; but he studiously avoided catching Rupert's.
He gave his evidence quietly, and without the slightest hesitation. He
admitted visiting his friend's rooms on the day of the races--he came to
condone with him on his loss over the big race. Yes, he knew he was
heavily involved. He found Miss Strode there alone; he spoke to her of
the loss. No, he did not remember her telling him she had won over
"Ambuscade." He was certain of this. Yes, he waited till Rupert came
in. He sat alone in the room for a few moments after Miss Strode had
gone and before Rupert came in.
He did not notice anything in Miss Strode's hand.
"Did you notice a cheque or slip of paper--in her hand?" Mr. Marshall
asked.
"I must object to that, m' Lord," interrupted Mr. Mathews.
"I submit the witness is hostile, m' Lord," replied Mr. Marshall.
"I think Mr. Marshall is entitled to treat this witness as hostile," the
Judge said. And Mr. Marshall again put the question.
"No, I did not see a cheque or slip of paper in her hand."
"Come, Mr. Despard, think again: did you not remark to Miss Strode that
it was a cheque for her winnings?"
"I have no recollection of any such conversation," Despard replied
curtly.
"Did you notice the blotter on the writing table, Mr. Despard?"
"Yes."
"Was it much used?"
"No, it was perfectly clean."
"Will you swear that it had never been used?"
"No, I can't swear that; but I thought----"
Mr. Marshall broke in: "Never mind your thoughts; what we want to know
is that you will not swear that the blotter was clean? ... Thank you,
that is all."
Mr. Marshall sat down.
Mr. Mathews with a smile asked two questions only. "You said that this
blotting paper was perfectly clean, but that you could not swear that it
had never been used? Will you kindly tell us why you noticed this pad
at all, Mr. Despard?"
"I noticed it because the last time I saw it, it was covered with
ink--worn out, in fact--and I naturally noticed the clean white sheet."
"And you feel sure it had not been used?"
"Yes--I feel sure I should have noticed it."
"Thank you; you can sit down!" And Mr. Mathews resumed his seat.
Other witnesses followed to prove that Rupert was not the man who sent
the note to the bank; that the money was given to Miss Strode; that the
word "hundred" on the cheque was not his writing. But here a difficulty
arose, because Ruby had tried to copy the writing on the cheque, so that
it was not recognisable as her writing either.
When the last witness had stepped down, Mr. Mathews addressed the Court.
He pointed out that Ruby was Rupert's sweetheart, that she herself
admitted, under cross-examination; that she had made this confession to
save her lover.
"While doubtless she had been his accomplice in the crime, and as such
received the money," he went on to say, "the letter to the bank was in
the prisoner's own handwriting, and bore his signature. This had been
admitted by the defence, though they gave a clumsy and wholly
unbelievable explanation, namely, that it referred to a bookmaker and a
bet that he had apparently never made!
"The evidence of their own witness, Despard, was perhaps the strongest
proof of the unreliability of Miss Strode's statements. He distinctly
denies seeing the cheque she states she had in her hand. He says there
was no mention made of winning a bet, and he declares that the
blotting-pad--that should have been stained as it now appears in Court,
was perfectly clean! So careful is this witness as to the accuracy of
what he gives in evidence, that he actually declines to positively swear
that the blotter had not been used, although sure in his own mind that
it was quite clean. Contrast this straightforward evidence with the
statements made by Miss Strode herself! Why, she cannot tell her story
without contradicting her own evidence, and then when she is asked to
say which statement is true, she breaks down and gives up her attempt to
save her lover! Gentlemen of the jury, I should be the last to take
advantage of a woman's weakness--of the unfortunate position in which
she has placed herself; I cannot but admire her heroism, her
self-sacrifice in trying to save her lover by taking the crime on
herself; but I should not be doing my duty--nay, I should be defeating
justice itself, were I to permit this loving woman to condemn herself of
a crime, of which she is only the innocent accomplice."
He sat down, and Mr. Marshall rose. He was a young man with his
reputation to make, and this was his first big case.
He began quietly by reviewing bit by bit the evidence for the
prosecution. He cleverly seized each point in which a witness had said
anything indirectly injurious to the prisoner, and pointed out that it
was equally true if applied to Ruby Strode. He asked the jury if there
was one single piece of direct evidence against his client. And, after
a dramatic pause, he answered: "No, gentlemen, there is not!
Circumstantial evidence there is in abundance, but nothing--absolutely
nothing--that can justify you in finding this man guilty."
Then he took the evidence for the defence. He drew a pathetic picture
of the prisoner suffering in silence to screen his sweetheart; of his
refusal at first to make any defence; of his determination to plead
guilty; and finally, his consent when he believed his sweetheart safe on
the Continent, solely because of his aged father's grief at the
dishonour and the stigma that would attach to his sister's good name.
He spoke for forty-six minutes, and concluded a clever and eloquent
defence with the following words:
"Gentlemen of the jury, were I not convinced myself of the innocence of
the prisoner at the bar, I could not stand before you and ask you for a
verdict that will place his own sweetheart in the position in which he
now stands. But my learned friend who represents the Crown, heard the
confession of Ruby Strode as it fell from her lips in the solicitors'
office only last night. Had he listened as I did to her ready answers
to every question asked--seen her evident sincerity and heard her
straightforward account of the whole transaction, he would, I feel
certain, never have allowed this case to go on. I only ask you for
justice for an innocent man, and I leave him in your hands, gentlemen,
confident that he will receive it."
There was a burst of applause as he sat down--instantly suppressed by
the ushers--and then the Judge summed up.
He reviewed the evidence very shortly, and pointed out to the jury that
it was for them to consider these statements and to say if they believed
the affidavit put up for the defence. If they believed this, then it
was their duty to acquit the prisoner. On the other hand, if they did
not believe the confession therein to be true, if they believed the
contention of the prosecution that it was made under the motive of
affection for the prisoner, then they must, on the evidence before them,
find the prisoner guilty.
On the point of law there was no difficulty. Fraud had been committed,
and it was for them to say if it had been committed by the prisoner or
not. He warned them against allowing their sympathies to interfere with
their judgment, but at the same time he must remind them that if any
uncertainty existed in their minds, they were bound to give the prisoner
the benefit of any such doubt.