JACOB HARTRICH, THE BANKER, GIVES HIS REASONS FOR BELIEVING
GAUTRAN THE WOODMAN GUILTY OF THE MURDER OF MADELINE
Jacob Hartrich, by birth a Jew, had reached his sixtieth year, and
was as hale and strong as a man of forty. His face was bland and
full-fleshed, his eyes bright and, at times, joyous, his voice mellow,
his hands fat and finely-shaped, and given to a caressing petting of
each other, denoting satisfaction with themselves and the world in
general. His manners were easy and self-possessed--a characteristic of
his race. He was a gentleman and a man of education.
He gazed at the Advocate with admiration; he had an intense respect
for men who had achieved fame by force of intellect.
"Mr. Almer," he said, "prepared me for your arrival, and is anxious
that I should forward your views in every possible way. I shall be
happy to do so, and, if it is in my power, to contribute to the
pleasure of your visit."
"I thank you," said the Advocate, with a courteous inclination of his
head. "When did you last see Mr. Almer?"
"He called upon me this day three weeks--for a few minutes only, and
only concerning your business."
"He is always thoughtful and considerate. I suppose he was on his road
to Paris when he called upon you."
"No; he had no intention of going to Paris. I believe he had been for
some time in the neighbourhood of Geneva before he favoured me with a
visit. He is still here."
"Here!" exclaimed the Advocate, in a tone of pleasure and surprise.
"At least in Switzerland."
"In what part?"
"I cannot inform you, but from the remarks he let fall, I should say
in the mountains, where tourists are not likely to penetrate." He
paused a moment before he continued: "Mr. Almer spoke of you, in terms
it was pleasant to hear, as his closest, dearest friend."
"We are friends in the truest sense of the word."
"Then I may speak freely to you. During the time he was with me I was
impressed by an unusual strangeness in him. He was restless and ill at
ease; his manner denoted that he was either dissatisfied with himself
or was under some evil influence. I expressed my surprise to him that
he had been for some time in this neighbourhood without calling upon
me, but he did not offer any explanation of his neglect. He told me,
however, that he was tired of the light, the gaiety, and the bustle of
cities, and that it was his intention to seek some solitude to
endeavour to rid himself of a terror which had taken possession of
him. No sooner had he made this strange declaration than he strove, in
hurried words, to make light of it, evidently anxious that it should
leave no impression upon my mind. I need scarcely say he did not
succeed. I have frequently thought of that declaration and of
Christian Almer in connection with it."
The Advocate smiled and shook his head.
"Mr. Almer is given to fantastic expression. If you knew him as well
as I do you would be aware that he is prone to magnify trifles, and
likely to raise ghosts of the conscience for the mere pleasure of
laying them. His nature is of that order which suffers keenly, but I
am not disposed on that account to pity him. There are men who would
be most unhappy unless they suffered."
"My dear sir," said Jacob Hartrich, "I have known Christian Almer
since he was a child. I knew his father, a gentleman of great
attainments, and his mother, a refined and exquisitely beautiful
woman. His child-life probably made a sad impression upon him, but he
has mixed with the world, and there is a bridge of twenty years
between then and now. A great change has taken place in him, and not
for the better. There is certainly something on his mind."
"There is something on most men's minds. I have remarked no change in
Mr. Almer to cause me uneasiness. He is the same high-minded gentleman
I have ever known him to be. He is exquisitely sensitive, responsive
to the lightest touch; those who are imbued with such qualities suffer
keenly and enjoy keenly."
"The thought occurred to me that he might have sustained a monetary
loss, but I dismissed it."
"A monetary loss would rather exalt than depress him. He is rich--it
would have been a great happiness for him if he had been poor. What
are termed misfortunes are sometimes real blessings; many fine natures
are made to halt on their way by worldly prosperity. Had Christian
Almer been born in the lower classes he would have found a worthy
occupation; he would have made a name for himself, and in all
probability would have won a wife--who would have idolised him. He is
a man whom a woman might worship."
"You have given me a clue," said Jacob Hartrich; "he has met with a
disappointment in love."
"I think not; had he met with such a disappointment I should most
surely have heard of it from his own lips."
Interesting as this conversation was to both the speakers it had now
come to a natural break, and Jacob Hartrich, diverging from it,
inquired whether the Advocate's visit was likely to be a long one.
"I have pledged myself," said the Advocate somewhat wearily, "to
remain here for at least three months."
"Rest is a necessary medicine." The Advocate nodded absently. "Pray
excuse me while I attend to your affairs. Here are the local and other
papers."
He left the room, and returning soon afterwards found the Advocate
engaged in the perusal of a newspaper in which he appeared to be
deeply interested.
"Your business," said Jacob Hartrich, "will occupy about twenty
minutes. There are some trifling formalities to be gone through with
respect to signatures and stamps. If you are pressed for time I will
send to you at your hotel."
"With your permission I will wait," said the Advocate, laying aside
the paper with a thoughtful air.
Jacob Hartrich glanced at the paper, and saw the heading of the
column which the Advocate had perused, "The Murder of Madeline the
Flower-girl."
"You have been reading the particulars of this shocking deed."
"I have read what is there written."
"But you are familiar with the particulars; everybody has read them."
"I am the exception, then. I have seen very few newspapers lately."
"It was a foul and wicked murder."
"It appears so, from this bare recital."
"The foulest and most horrible within my remembrance. Ah! where will
not the passions of men lead them?"
"A wide contemplation. Were men to measure the consequences of their
acts before they committed them, certain channels of human events
which are now exceedingly wide and turbulent would become narrow and
peaceful. It was a girl who was murdered?"
"Yes."
"Young?"
"Barely seventeen."
"Pretty?"
"Very pretty."
"Had she no father to protect her?"
"No."
"Nor mother?"
"No--as far as is known."
"A flower-girl, I gather from the account."
"Yes. I have occasionally bought a posy of her--poor child!"
"Did she trade alone?"
"She had a companion, an elderly woman, who, unhappily, left her a few
days before the murder."
"Deserted her?"
"No; it was an amicable parting, intended to last but a short time, I
believe. It is not known what called her away."
"This young flower-girl--was she virtuous?"
"Undoubtedly, in my belief. She was most modest and child-like."
"But susceptible to flattery. You hesitate. Why? Do you not judge
human passions by human standards? She was young, pretty, in humble
circumstances; her very opposite would be susceptible to flattery;
therefore, she."
"Why, yes, of course; I hesitated because it would pain me to say
anything concerning her which might be construed into a reproach."
"In such matters there is but one goal to steer for--the truth. I
perceive that a man, Gautran, is in prison, charged with the murder."
"A man?" exclaimed Jacob Hartrich, with indignant warmth. "A monster,
rather! Some refined punishment should be devised to punish him for
his crime."
"His crime! I have, then, been reading an old paper." The Advocate
referred to the date. "No--it is this morning's."
"I see your point, but the proofs of the monster's guilt are
irrefragable."
"What proofs? The statements of newspaper reporters--the idle and
mischievous tattle of persons who cannot be put into the witness-box?"
"It is well that you express yourself to me privately on this matter.
In public it would not be credited that you were in earnest."
"Then the facts are lost sight of that the man has to be tried, that
his guilt or innocence has yet to be established."
"The law cannot destroy facts."
"The law establishes facts, which are often in danger of being
perverted by man's sympathies and prejudices. Are you acquainted with
this Gautran?"
"I have no knowledge of him except from report."
"And having no knowledge of him, except from report, you form an
opinion upon hearsay, and condemn him offhand. It is justice itself,
therefore, that is on its trial, not a man accused of a frightful
deed. _He_ is already judged. It is stated in the newspaper that the
man's appearance is repulsive."
"He is hideous."
"Then you _have_ seen him."
"No."
"Calmly consider what value can be placed upon your judgment under the
circumstances. You say the girl was pretty. Her engaging manners have
tempted you to buy posies of her, not always when you needed them. In
making this statement of a fact which, trivial as it appears to be, is
of importance, I judge a human action by a human standard. Thus,
beauty on one side, and a forbidding countenance on the other, may be
the means of contributing--nay, of leading--to a direct miscarriage of
justice. This should be prevented; justice must have a clear course,
which must not be blocked and choked up by passion and prejudice. The
opinion you express of Gautran's guilt may be entertained by others to
whom he is also a stranger."
"My opinion is universal."
"The man, therefore, is universally condemned before he is called upon
to answer the charge brought against him. Amidst this storm, in the
wild fury of which reason has lost its proper functions, where shall a
jury be found to calmly weigh the evidence on either side, and to
judge, with ordinary fairness, a miserable wretch accused of a foul
crime?"
"Gautran is a vagabond," said Jacob Hartrich feebly, feeling as though
the ground were giving way under his feet, "of the lowest type."
"He is poor."
"Necessarily."
"And cannot afford to pay for independent legal aid."
"It is fortunate. He will meet with his deserts more surely and
swiftly."
"You can doubtless call to mind instances of innocent persons being
accused of crimes they did not commit, and being made to suffer."
"There is no fear in the case of Gautran."
"Let us hope not," said the Advocate, whose voice during the
conversation had been perfectly passionless, "and in the meantime, do
not lose sight of this principle. Were Gautran the meanest creature
that breathes, were he the most repulsive being on earth, he is an
innocent man until he is declared guilty by the law. Equally so were
he a man gifted with exceeding beauty of person, and bearing an
honoured name. And of those two extremes, supposing both were found
guilty of equal crimes, it is worthy of consideration, whether he who
walks the gutters be not better entitled to a merciful sentence than
he who lives on the heights."
At this moment a clerk brought some papers into the room. Jacob
Hartrich looked over them, and handed them, with a roll of notes, to
the Advocate, who rose and prepared to go.
"Have you a permanent address?" asked the banker. "We take up our
quarters at once," replied the Advocate, "at the House of White
Shadows."
Jacob Hartrich gazed at him in consternation. "Christian Almer's
villa! He made no mention of it to me."
"It was an arrangement entered into some time since. I have a letter
from Master Pierre Lamont informing me that the villa is ready for
us."
"It has been uninhabited for years, except by servants who have been
kept there to preserve it from falling into decay. There are strange
stories connected with that house."
"I have heard as much, but have not inquired into them. The
probability is that they arise from credulity or ignorance, the
foundation of all superstition."
With that remark the Advocate took his leave.