The People "rested," and the defendant, a miserable specimen of those
wretched beings that constitute the penumbra of crime, took the stand.
His defence was absurd. He denied ever before having seen his accuser,
had not been in the saloon, had not taken the ring, had not pawned it,
had bought the ticket from a man on the corner who, he remembered, had
told him he was getting a bargain at three dollars. He could not
describe this "man," or account for his own whereabouts on the evening
in question. He had been drunk at the time. It was a story as old as
theft itself.
The prosecutor winked at the jury, and the Judge once more summoned the
apostolic-looking complainant to the chair.
"You realize, sir, the terrible consequences to this young man should
you be mistaken? Are you quite sure that he is one of the persons who
robbed you?" he inquired with becoming gravity.
The witness raised himself by his cane, and stepping down to where the
prisoner sat, gazed searchingly into his stolid face.
"God knows," said he, "I wouldn't harm a hair of his head. But by all
that's holy, I swear he's the man who took my ring."
A wave of interest passed over the assembled attorneys. That was
business for you! No use to cross-examine an old fellow like _him_.
There was a great nodding of heads and shuffling of feet.
"Do you think you could identify your other assailant if you should see
him?" continued the judge.
"I'm sure of it," calmly replied the witness.
"Very well, sir," continued his Honor; "see if you can do so."
Half of the audience moved uneasily, and glanced longingly toward the
closed means of exit. A woman tittered hysterically. The witness slowly
descended, and, escorted by a policeman, began his inspection,
scrutinizing each face with care. Quietly he moved along the first
bench, and then, gently shaking his head, along the second. The interest
became breathless. A sigh of relief rippled along the settees after him.
The only spectator unmoved by what was taking place was Supple Jim, who
smiled genially at the old gentleman as the latter glanced at him and
passed on. Four rows--five rows--six rows--seven rows. At last there
was but one bench left, and the excitement reached the point of
ebullition. Would he find him? Were they going to be disappointed after
all? Only half a bench left! Only two men left! Ah! what was that?
People shoved one another in the back, craning their heads to see what
was doing in the distant corner where the complainant stood. Suddenly
the searcher faced the Judge, and, pointing to the last occupant of the
rear settee, announced with conviction:
"Your Honor, _this_ is the other man!"
A murmur travelled rapidly around the court-room. Honors were even
between a Judge who could thus unerringly divine the presence of a
malefactor and a patriarch who, out of so great a multitude, was able
unhesitatingly to pick out a midnight assailant.
The "criminal" attorneys whispered among themselves: "Well, say! what do
you think of that! All right, eh? Well, I guess! Well, say!"
This picturesque digression concluded, interest again centred in the
defendant, of whose ultimate conviction there could no longer be any
doubt.
Not that the identification of the accomplice had any real significance,
since the man so ostentatiously picked out by the patriarch in court had
been caught red-handed at the time of the robbery within a block of the
saloon, was already under indictment as a co-defendant, and being out
on bail had merely been brought in under a bench warrant and placed
among the spectators. But the performance had a distinct dramatic value,
and the jury could not be blamed for making the natural deduction that
if the complainant was right as regards the one, _ipso facto_ he must be
as to the other. That the complainant had already identified him at the
police-station and at the Tombs seemed a matter of small importance. The
point was, apparently, that the old fellow had a good memory, and one
upon which the jury could safely rely.
The Judge charged the law, and the jury retired, returning almost
immediately with a verdict of "Guilty of robbery in the first degree."
The prisoner at the bar swayed for an instant, steadied himself, and
stood clinging to the rail, while his counsel made the usual motions for
a new trial and in arrest of judgment.
"Clear the box! Clear the box!" shouted the clerk, and the jury, their
duty comfortably discharged, filed slowly out.
The court-room rapidly emptied itself into the corridors. Supple Jim
waited on the steps of the building until a young woman, carrying a
baby, came wearily out, and, as she passed, thrust a roll of bills into
her hand.
"Your feller's been _done dirt_!" he growled. "Take that, and put it
out of sight. Don't give it to any _lawyer_, now! You'll need it
yourself." Then he sprang lightly upon the rear platform of a surface
car as it whizzed by, and vanished from her astonished gaze.
Thus was an innocent man convicted, while crime triumphant played the
part of benefactor.