The High Bailiff of Douglas held a Court that day. The court-house
was almost empty. Not more than six or seven persons sat in the
places assigned to the public. Three young reporters yawned over
their note-books in their box beside the wall. In the well allotted
to Counsel there were only two advocates in wig and gown.
A few bare-headed policemen stood near the bench and the Clerk of the
Court sat under it. There was nobody else in the court-house except
the High Bailiff himself, an elderly man with a red face and a
benevolent expression.
He was trying a number of petty cases, chiefly of larceny and
drunkenness. The light was low and the voices echoed in the vacant
chamber. But from time to time a deadened rumble came from the
streets outside--the clang of horses' hoofs, the derisive cries of a
crowd, the loud shout of a commanding officer, and then a scamper of
feet that was like heavy rain pelting down on the pavement.
Behind the Jury-box, which was empty, there was a door that led to
the prison below. The last case was being heard when this door was
opened and the Chief Constable came up into Court, followed by
Stowell and a policeman. The Chief Constable took a seat in the
advocates' well; Stowell and the policeman sat on the public benches.
When the High Bailiff, who was a great respecter of authority, saw
the Deemster enter, he sent a policeman to ask him to come up to a
seat by his side on the bench, but Stowell shook his head.
The case being tried was that of a farmer who was charged with
driving his country cart on the high road without a stern light. The
defence was that the lamp was alight when he left town, and had been
put out by a high wind that was blowing. On this issue there was a
long questioning and cross-questioning by the advocates, but at
length the case came to a close.
"Half-a-crown and costs," said the High Bailiff; and then reaching
over to his clerk he asked if that was the last case for the day.
"Yes, your Worship," said the Clerk, and the High Bailiff was pushing
back his chair, when the Chief Constable rose with an air of
importance.
"Your Worship, I have a serious charge to make."
He beckoned to the policeman at the back, who opened the door of the
dock and Stowell stepped into it.
"I charge his Honour Deemster Victor Stowell, on his own confession,
with breaking prison on Sunday night last between the hours of ten
and twelve, to effect the escape from custody of a prisoner lying
there under sentence of death."
The High Bailiff seemed to be stupefied and the charge had to be
repeated to him.
"Eh? What? God bless my soul! On his own confession, you say? Is
the Deemster well? What conceivable motive...."
"I will give formal evidence, your Worship, and ask for a committal
to General Gaol, when the question of motive will be fully gone into."
"Well, well! Good gracious me! If it must be it must. It is my
painful duty to put the Deemster back for trial. But I suggest that
a doctor be asked to see him immediately. And meantime" (the High
Bailiff turned to the reporters, who were now busy enough over their
note-books), "may I request the representatives of the press to
publish nothing about this painful matter at present?"
It was all over in a few minutes. The door behind the Jury-box was
opened again and Stowell and the policeman returned to the cells.
In less than half-an-hour the news was all over the town. Special
editions of the newspapers (single sheets) had been run off in
furious haste, and the newsboys were shouting through the streets,
_Arrest of Deemster Victor Stowell._
The news fell on the public like a thunderbolt. It eclipsed their
interest in the soldiers.