... The examination of the witnesses for the defence was concluded, and
the public prosecutor rose. His speech was short and pithy.
He thought all must agree that the charge he had preferred against the
accused had been fully proved by the evidence given in court.
With regard to the responsibility of the accused, he also believed that
this had been asserted beyond all doubt; the opinion of the medical men
was definite, and the evidence by which the defence had attempted to
weaken these were but of little value. He did not believe for a moment
the counsel for the defence would seriously question the responsibility
of the accused. That the feeling of having committed a great crime, and
of having to answer for it, might have caused the conduct of the accused
to appear strange, and to some degree self-contradictory, was only
natural.
That the accused had retracted her first confession, and later on had
refused to give any explanation whatever in the court, might perhaps
surprise some, but it could in no way weaken the clear and distinct
proofs of her guilt. It was perhaps to be regretted that the police had
not succeeded in ascertaining where the money for the stolen object had
disappeared to, as this circumstance prevented any possible accomplices
being brought to justice. It was likewise to be regretted that motives
for the crime could not be sufficiently explained; but the accused was
no doubt herself principally to be blamed for this, through her
persistent silence. None of these circumstances ought, however, to have
any influence upon the answer of the jury to the question, "Guilty or
not guilty?"
The counsel for the accused rose to begin his speech for the defence.
He seemed at first to be somewhat uncertain, but he soon decided upon
the line he would take.
He did not want to conceal, he said, that he was in a very difficult
position, and the one who made his position most difficult of all was
his client.
All had heard that the young girl who was charged with having stolen the
diamond, which was now lying upon the table in court, had at first
confessed, but had afterward retracted her confession, and otherwise
refused any information whatsoever in the matter. But what every one,
in all probability, did not know, was that she had maintained the same
silence with regard to him, her counsel and adviser. He had not
succeeded in getting a single word from her lips, except the assurance
that she would say nothing, would answer no questions, and would give no
information. "I thought it only right," continued the young advocate,
"to make this open declaration, in order that my inability to give
information which might be to the advantage of my client, should not be
misunderstood. You must not believe that I have received any
information from her, and that I have not found it to her advantage to
make use of it.
"It appears to me, and I hope the gentlemen of the jury will agree with
me, that the unfortunate girl, paralyzed by the terrible blow of
suspicion which has fallen upon her, and feeling how terribly hopeless
her case is, through the strong appearances against her at almost every
step, has found it expedient to draw within herself and keep silence,
just as the hunted deer withdraws to its cave, even if death awaits it
there. No one has a right to construe my client's silence as a
confession, or the result of a consciousness of guilt.
"The diamond was stolen in the interval between five and half-past seven
in the afternoon. Of these two hours and a half my client spent only
half an hour's time within the walls of Villa Ballarat, while many
persons were present there during the whole time. It has been proved,
says the public prosecutor, that no stranger could have gained admission
there during that time; but can we be so sure of that? An agile man can
easily climb over the railings--no one will deny that. The police
examined the ground round about, and no trace was found, may be said in
objection. But we know that expert criminals are often very dexterous
in destroying all traces after them; and no one will maintain that the
police are so infallible that a trace cannot have escaped them.
"One need not be gifted with great acuteness in order to guess what is
passing through the minds of the gentlemen of the jury at this moment:
what can be the use of all this? The main proofs against the accused
still remain unassailable. But let us look into some of these proofs
which, according to the opinion of the public prosecutor, are so strong
that they are even more reliable than a confession. The old man who
bought the diamond has himself said that he bought it of the young girl
whom I defend, and there can be no doubt about this, although he has not
appeared in court as witness; we have the evidence of the head of the
detective department with regard to it, and that must be sufficient.
But--here is also a 'but,' just as there is a 'but' in all the so-called
infallible circumstantial evidence against the accused--is, then, the
word of an imbecile man in his second childhood to be fully depended
upon--a man who immediately afterward is declared incapable of managing
his own affairs; who is so infatuated with his mania that he, whose
honesty is otherwise not for a moment to be doubted after a long life of
spotless integrity, buys a diamond which he knows must have been stolen?
Shall the evidence of such a man decide the fate of a human being? And
besides, is this man's evidence quite impartial? We have heard, from
the account of the chief of the detectives, that the old man tried to
conceal the fact that he was in possession of the diamond; in his
imbecility he is, however, conscious that he has done something wrong,
and is, to a certain degree, cunning, and on his guard. What, then, is
more probable than that he, who sees that he has been discovered, is
wily enough to give an explanation which makes it probable that a
servant would have the disposal of the diamond at her command? Who
dares maintain that the old man spoke the truth on this occasion? It
is, however, just as much, if not more probable, that he resorted to
telling the first untruth that came into his head!
"And what has become of the five thousand kroners, which he says he has
paid for the diamond?
"It has not been possible to ascertain, says my opponent; but on the
whole he seems to lay little stress upon the circumstance.
"It seems to me that this circumstance--that no trace whatever has been
discovered of the money--is quite an important one. We know that the
most able detectives have been engaged in tracing it--even the fiance of
my client was arrested in Copenhagen in consequence thereof; both she
and her mother have been watched most closely--but still no clue. Are
not these circumstances important? Is there not more than one proof
that the police have been on the wrong track, that the thief is not the
one who has been arrested, and that they have been investigating in a
direction where there was nothing to look for?
"But it may be said that the principal proof still remains unshaken; the
accused has, by a remarkable coincidence, been photographed in the act
of committing the theft, that cannot be denied or explained away; yes--I
venture to maintain there is no proof of the guilt of the accused in
this. I admit that most probably it is the young girl who has been
photographed on this film. The hat and the jacket which she wears were
given to her by Miss Frick about six o'clock in the afternoon of the
same day: this we know from the evidence; likewise that she wore the
same clothes when she called on her mother between half-past six and
seven. I admit there is a probability which approaches to certainty,
that it is my client who, in the photograph here, is standing in front
of Mr. Frick's cupboard in the so-called museum. One can also see that
she is holding some object in her hand. Yes, I even go so far as to
admit that she is most likely looking at the black diamond. But from
this moment my conclusions cease to coincide with those of the public
prosecutor.
"Why should it follow that she also took the diamond with her?
"What if my client, on passing through the garden and seeing the door
open to the museum, goes inside, and out of curiosity has a look at the
black diamond about which there has been so much talk among the people
of the house while she was serving the coffee in the afternoon, and then
puts it back again and passes out through the garden, on her way to her
mother? What if she, later on, after hearing of the robbery,
understands that she has been imprudent, and then does a still more
imprudent thing by trying to conceal her visit to the museum, and
finally, when almost crushed under the shame and fear of being arrested,
acts as she afterward did?
"I ask any person of common sense, is there anything more improbable
than that this young girl, who has always shown the most exemplary
honesty, should commit this daring theft without any special motive?
This young girl, who was not in need, and who in her master's house had
found a home almost as if she were one of the family--this young girl
who knew that if she were in want of money for any special object her
young mistress would not deny her it, even if it were a considerable
sum!
"Is this more probable than that her presence in the museum was due to
an accidental circumstance of no significance, and that the theft has
afterward been committed by some one else?"
The counsel for the defence was here interrupted in a manner which was
no doubt flattering to him; from the audience came the sound of more
than one hearty _Bravo!_ while a hoarse voice, full of sincere
conviction, exclaimed, "Ah! he's about right there."
Silence was soon obtained, and the counsel concluded his speech thus:
"It is an old experience of the court that the chain of evidence which
seems strongest, and in which the links seem to fit exactly into each
other, is in reality most often the weakest. I will ask the jury to bear
this in mind. And I believe that I have at least shown you that in the
chain of the public prosecutor which seemed to fit so beautifully there
is not one link which can be called faultless."
The counsel resumed his seat, and the public made an attempt to applaud
him, but the judge quickly imposed silence, and the public prosecutor
rose to reply.
He had followed the speech of the counsel for the defence with interest
and approval, the latter no doubt arising from the same cause which had
dictated the applause of the public--that is to say, admiration of the
counsel's ability to make something out of nothing, or of an
inconvenient subject. At this point the public prosecutor nodded in a
friendly way across to the counsel for the defence, who smiled in
return.
He found, on the whole, his chain of evidence so little weakened by what
the defence had brought forward, that he did not think it necessary to
go through it again. He had such great confidence in the intelligence
of the jury that he would take it for granted they would have remarked,
without his pointing it out to them, that where he had produced facts,
or probabilities which almost amounted to facts, the counsel for the
defence had only set up possibilities, and even improbable
possibilities--with this, he would leave the matter in the hands of the
jury.
The counsel for the defence then proceeded to make his final speech.
The public prosecutor had himself admitted that there were possibilities
that the theft had not been committed in the way the prosecution had
asserted. It would be the duty of the jury to decide as to the
probability or improbability of the possibilities. He would conclude by
saying that when to these possibilities was added the stainless life of
his client, and the good character she bore from all quarters--no one
had brought forward anything to the contrary--as well as the
circumstance that no one had been able to show any particular motive for
the young girl's suddenly committing a criminal act; and finally, that
it had not been possible, in spite of the most energetic exertions of
the police, to show that his client had been in possession of, or
disposed of the money which was to have been the reward of the crime of
which she was accused--then he did not doubt that the conscientious jury
would not pronounce the fateful "Yes" to the question "Guilty?"
The counsel sat down, but no applause was heard this time from the
public. All seemed to be convinced that his exertions had been in vain.
The time approached when the jurymen had to retire. All seemed to feel
that their deliberations would be short, and the result an unanimous
verdict of guilty.
Of what avail could be the eloquence or the cunning subterfuges of a
counsel, against proofs and facts as clear as those which the public
prosecutor had produced?
The judge asked the accused if she had anything to say. Her counsel
leaned toward her, and appeared to be urging something earnestly upon
her; but she only shook her head, as before, and the young man sat down
with an air of resignation.
*CHAPTER II*
*THE PHOTOGRAPH CANNOT LIE*
The public prosecutor had begun to read the questions which were to be
laid before the jury, when he was interrupted by a noise from the back
of the court. Many of the public rose from their seats in order to see
better.
What could be the matter?
A messenger of the court had forced his way through the crowd to the
counsel for the defence, and handed him a letter, saying a few words,
which those nearest to him could hear. The messenger said, "You must
read it at once, sir; it has to do with the case now before the court."
The counsel tore open the envelope, read, passed his hand across his
forehead, and read the letter again.
He crushed the paper in his hand, stepped quickly forward, and as the
public prosecutor had not resumed his reading, he addressed himself to
the judge, saying, "I must ask that an hour's postponement be granted to
my client; in that time I believe I can bring before you, gentlemen,
evidence which will throw a new light upon the case."
* * * * *
An hour passed by, perhaps a little more, and the court was again
sitting. The room was, if possible, even more crowded than before; no
one had been willing to give up his seat, and there were new arrivals.
The silence which reigned showed the excitement that possessed
everybody.
The counsel for the defence asked to be allowed to examine the chief of
the detective staff once more.
The young officer stepped forward, and took his place in the witness box
in his usual quiet manner, although astonishment was plainly written on
his face.
_The counsel_: "You have already told us that when you paid a visit to
Mr. Jurgens and so skilfully got him to give up the diamond, he then
told you that he had bought it from the accused, Evelina Reierson.
Isn't that so?"
"Yes."
_Counsel_: "Did he seem to be in any doubt as to whom he had bought the
diamond from?"
The detective blushed at this question, but his answer was as
unconstrained and calm as before.
"No, he gave me the impression that he was sure it was the accused."
_Counsel_: "Did he name any one else who could possibly have sold him
the diamond?"
"At first he began, with some confused nonsense, to excuse himself, but
it was of no significance to the case."
_Counsel_: "I must ask you, however, to give the name or the names which
Mr. Jurgens mentioned in connection with the diamond."
One could see that the officer was angry at the importunate examination,
and that he had to exert himself to the utmost, in order to answer
calmly.
"Mr. Jurgens seemed at first to be somewhat frightened at the
consequences of his transaction, and in order to excuse himself, he
began with some nonsense about having bought the diamond from--from a
person who is nearly related to Mr. Frick, and who was supposed to have
received the diamond from him as a present."
_Counsel_: "What did you do to get him to speak the truth?"
The detective hesitated a moment, and grew redder still in the face. At
last he answered firmly and distinctly:--
"He first mentioned Miss Frick as having sold him the diamond, and that
she had said she had got it as a present from her uncle. This was as
much as to say that the young lady, for whom I have--have the greatest
respect, is a thief and a liar, as information of the robbery was given
to the police by her uncle; and I then forgot myself for the moment and
seized hold of the old man--but of course only for a moment!"
_Counsel_: "It was after you let go of him that he gave the name of
Evelina Reierson?"
"Yes; but as you will understand--"
_Counsel_ (interrupting): "I have for the present nothing further to ask
you."
"Well, I never heard such--" exclaimed a powerful voice. It was old
Frick who rose, red as a turkey cock in the face; the judge himself had
to call him to order.
Mr. Monk still stood in the same place, biting his lips. Miss Frick
stared at him with an astonished expression. As yet she suspected
nothing.
But the attention of the public was soon engrossed by a new witness whom
the counsel for the defence brought forward. He was a tall,
squarely-built man, with broad round shoulders, and black hair and
beard; he was dressed in shiny, threadbare black clothes.
The examination was begun by the judge. The witness seemed quite
unwilling to be examined.
"Your name?"
"Abraham Abrahamson."
"How old are you?"
"Fifty-three years old."
"What is your calling?"
"Pawnbroker and commission agent."
"Where do you live?"
"Bishop Street, No. 75."
"Do you know anything about the case which is before the jury to-day?"
"I have read about it in the papers."
"Have you had anything to do with any of the persons in the case, or
have you in any other way obtained any information which may be of
importance in this matter?"
"I know several persons here by sight"--the witness looked round the
court with his sharp, dark eyes--"but I did not believe I could give any
information which could be of use to the court, until I was sent for
half an hour ago."
The judge concluded, and left the further examination to the counsel for
the defence.
_Counsel_: "Do you know this young girl, Evelina Reierson?"
_Witness_: "She has been once or twice to my place, on business."
_Counsel_: "On what sort of business?"
_Witness_ (unwillingly): "To pawn a few small things."
_Counsel_: "What sort of small things?"
_Witness_: "As far as I can remember, they were some rings and a pair of
earrings."
Suddenly Miss Frick's voice was heard--not loud, but clear and
distinct:--
"The rings and earrings she got from me. They were presents, and she
could do as she liked with them."
The judge enjoined the young lady in a friendly but decided tone not to
speak until she was questioned, and the young lady sat down, blushing.
_Counsel_: "Had you a visit from the young girl on the 10th of May
last?"
_Witness_: "Yes, most likely."
_Counsel_: "Most likely? Be good enough to explain yourself more
clearly; or does it mean that you remember nothing about that day?"
_Witness_: "Well, yes, I can well enough explain what I mean. I have
nothing to hide--the law and the police I have always esteemed and
respected"--here an ironical voice was heard exclaiming:--
"You are about right there, Abrahamson!" which was followed by loud
laughter.
The witness, with a scornful glance at the corner where the interruption
came from, continued: "No, I have nothing to hide. On the 10th of May a
lady came to me and asked if I would lend her some money on some
jewelry,--a lot of rings, brooches, and bracelets with precious stones
in them. She had a veil over her face; but I thought I recognized the
young girl whom you call Evelina Reierson."
_Counsel_: "Was it not, then, the young girl who sits here?"
_Witness_: "I don't know."
_Counsel_: "Don't know?"
_Witness_: "If you will give me time, you shall hear. I said at once
that I could not accept such valuable things, unless she could show she
was authorized to pawn them. Then she answered that if we came to an
understanding, she would prove she was the owner of the jewelry. I
looked at the things, and said that if everything was all right, I could
lend her two thousand kroners on them. She knew that the things were
worth five thousand kroners, she said, and if I could give her four
thousand, I could buy them of her. I must have time to examine them, I
explained. But she would not let me. She seemed on the point of
crying, and asked me for God's sake to give her four thousand kroners
immediately; she would willingly give me a few more valuable things
later on, or pay me something back. Then I thought the matter looked
rather suspicious, and did not like to have anything more to do with
her, so she left."
_Counsel_: "Didn't you try to find out if it was the girl, Evelina
Reierson, or not?"
_Witness_ (after hesitating awhile before answering): "Yes, I did; for I
am a law-abiding man, who likes to give the police a helping hand."
_Counsel_: "Yes, we know that, but what did you do?"
_Witness_: "I sent a boy in my office after her. He sat up behind the
carriage--for she had come in a hired carriage which waited outside--and
he saw her go into a house in Drammen Road."
_Counsel_: "Was it Mr. Frick's house?"
_Witness_: "Yes, so the boy said."
_Counsel_: "But you took it as a proof that it really was Evelina
Reierson?"
_Witness_: "Yes, but I am not sure that it was she, after all, for she
had a veil on, and then I don't know Evelina Reierson so very well."
_Counsel_: "How was the lady dressed?"
_Witness_: "She had on a green hat with a feather in it, and a jacket
braided in front and at the back."
_Counsel_: "Do you remember this distinctly?"
_Witness_: "Yes, I am not so unaccustomed to using my eyes, and I
thought it best to notice her dress, in case the police should ask me
about the matter, later on."
_Counsel_: "What time was it when the lady visited you?"
_Witness_: "It must have been twenty minutes past five when she came,
for she was with me a quarter of an hour, and when she left it was
twenty-five minutes to six."
_Counsel_: "Was it also with regard to the possibility of inquiries from
the police that you looked at the clock when the lady left you?"
_Witness_: "Yes."
_Counsel_: "You are quite certain about the time, then?"
_Witness_: "Yes, quite certain; I conferred with my clerk."
The case had proceeded thus far when a great commotion in the court
caused the examination to be interrupted. It is superfluous to remark
that the two last witnesses had made a deep impression upon all who were
present at the hearing of this remarkable case, and the excitement among
the audience rose as the examination progressed.
The pawnbroker's last words fell in complete silence, but only to be
followed by murmurings and noise.
The alarm threatened to throw the court into confusion, when suddenly a
cry was heard, "She is fainting!" A large crowd had gathered round Miss
Frick, and old Frick was seen in the middle of it, gesticulating wildly,
while the young girl leant back on the seat with a handkerchief over her
face. Mr. Monk forced his way up to her, and with the consent of the
judge conducted her out of the court.
The judge then proceeded to call for order. It did not take him long,
for the threat to have the court cleared had immediate effect. No one
wished to lose the last act of the drama.
The counsel for the defence did not wish to examine the pawnbroker any
further. The public prosecutor had, in the meantime, nothing to comment
upon, and the young counsel was called upon to proceed.
He began with thanking the court for giving him the postponement he had
asked for,--a postponement which had enabled him not only to obtain
valuable evidence, but which had also given him positive means of
proving his client's innocence of the robbery of the diamond. He
continued:--
"If any one believes that my purpose in calling the witness Abrahamson,
and in putting new questions to the chief of the detective force, was to
throw the guilt of the robbery upon another, he is mistaken. It is
certainly unavoidable that at the same time my client's innocence is
brought to light, so at the same time the attention is led into another
direction, and the ministers of justice have perhaps already found a new
object in their search after the guilty person. But that is a matter
which does not concern me. It only goes to prove that the young girl
whose defence has been intrusted to me is innocent--that the
circumstantial evidence which appeared so strong against her, on the
contrary speaks in her favour when seen in the right light.
"The object of my last examination of the chief detective and the
witness Abrahamson was only to show that mistakes can be made, and in
this case have been made with regard to the identity of the accused.
Mr. Jurgens said at first it was another person who had sold the diamond
to him, and it was only after the chief detective had treated the old
man in, let us call it, a less polite manner, that he mentioned the name
of the accused. The witness Abrahamson believed he received a visit
from the accused on the same day the diamond was stolen. It appeared,
however, that the lady whom he supposed was his client was dressed in
clothes which she only became possessed of later in the day. We have
Miss Frick's sworn evidence to the effect that she herself wore the
braided costume between five and six o'clock, and only made a present of
these clothes to the accused at about six o'clock.
"It is, as I have already said, not my object to accuse any other
person, and I will give up the inquiry as to whether it was Miss Frick
herself who visited the pawnbroker that day; my object is only to show
that if Mr. Jurgens has mistaken another woman for my client, Evelina
Reierson, it is not at any rate the first time that day that she was the
object of a mistaken identity.
"What I have now adduced ought in itself to be sufficient to change the
opinion of the jury, if they have hitherto considered my client to be
guilty. But I am in the fortunate position of being able to prove that
what has hitherto appeared to be the most weighty evidence against my
client is, on the contrary, the clearest proof of her innocence. I refer
here to the circumstance that the witness, Mr. Howell, has declared that
he, at the time when the theft must have been committed, had seen the
accused in front of the cupboard where the diamond was kept, and that he
had even photographed her in this position. The photograph, in which
all will recognize my client, is now here in court. When I say that I
can prove that this circumstantial evidence is false, I mean that here,
also, we have a case of mistaken identity, and I can prove that the
person who is photographed here (he took the photograph in his hand) is
not, and cannot be, the accused. The proof is a simple one, although I
must confess that only an accident has enabled me to produce it. (The
young counsel here pulled out a large magnifying glass from his pocket,
and handed it, together with the photograph, to the judge.) Will the
court, and the gentlemen of the jury, and I would ask my colleague, the
public prosecutor, to do the same, look at the photograph through the
magnifying glass? You will then, gentlemen, see that the person who has
been photographed wears a ring on the ring finger of the left hand.
"Will you next examine the hand of the accused? When she was a little
girl, she broke the ring finger of her left hand in a fall. The bone
did not set properly, so that there is now a protuberance, which
prevents her from wearing a ring on that finger."
The counsel then raised the young girl's hand so that all could see it,
to which she quietly submitted, but without lifting her eyes from the
floor and without a change of expression on her waxen face.
"All will be able to convince themselves of the truth of this. I do not
think that any declaration from a medical authority is necessary. And,
gentlemen, let the magnifying glass show you yet another thing. You
will at once see on the left of the lady's head an object on the shelf
above. It is the little ivory elephant with the clock, of which mention
has already been made in the course of evidence. The glass, gentlemen,
will enable you not only to see the clock in the forehead of the
elephant, but also to plainly discover the position of the hands. What
time do the hands show? They show the time to be twenty minutes to six.
"Where was my client at that time? On this point we have full
information from the evidence before us. She had not returned by this
time. She only came in through the garden gate at five minutes to six.
And she could not, under any circumstance, be dressed at twenty minutes
to six in the jacket which she only received from Miss Frick at six
o'clock, or shortly afterward!
"Gentlemen, when you have assured yourselves as to the correctness of
what I have told you, you will perhaps remember what the witness, Mr.
Rodin, the able photographer, said in court:--
"'The photograph cannot lie!'
"With the permission of the court, I will postpone any further remarks
till the jury have convinced themselves that everything is as I have
stated."
* * * * *
For the first minute or so neither the judge's voice nor his hammer was
of any avail; he had to submit to the loud applause which the public
bestowed upon the young counsel, who bowed and smiled like an actor who
is called before the curtain.
* * * * *
But the space of a newspaper is limited, and I must conclude my report
as quickly as possible.
The examination of the photograph took some time, as the judge and the
jury had personally to assure themselves as to what the photograph could
tell. To all appearances, they seemed to be satisfied with their
investigations under the magnifying glass.
Mr. Rodin and another well-known photographer, both of whom had been
summoned as experts, declared with the greatest confidence that the
evidence of the photograph could be relied upon, and when a medical
witness declared that no ring of the usual dimension could be worn on
the finger of the accused, the affair was settled.
The jury disappeared, only to return at once, and the voice of the
foreman rang out clearly when he pronounced the words "Not guilty" to
the question, "Guilty or not guilty?"
* * * * *
Thus ends the account of the proceedings in one of our modern judicial
dramas. No one can doubt that we shall hear of an epilogue which will
probably result in a tragedy.
Last night we received information that as soon as the proceedings in
court were over, Miss Sigrid Frick was arrested, and charged with the
theft of her uncle's diamond.
* * * * *
*CHAPTER III*
*IN THE DARK*
I put the newspaper cutting on the table, and looked at my listeners.
Clara sat with her chin resting on her folded hands, and her elbows on
the table, staring straight in front of her. Monk, who had again
retired to the darkest corner of the room, now came forward. He was
very pale, but his voice was calm as he said:--
"Now I will continue. You must pardon me, if the rest of my story seems
dry and businesslike, but it is the only way I can persuade myself to
speak of it at all. There is, however, not much more to tell."
"Yes, but tell me, Monk,--was Sigrid--Miss Frick, I should say--"
It was Clara who spoke. She got up eagerly and went across to Monk.
"No, excuse me, Mrs. Viller, allow me to continue--in any case, for a
little while. You have promised to hear me, in order, if possible, to
advise and help me, so you must bear with my whim and not interrupt me
just now. Later, I will answer anything that you want to ask me."
Well, there are several things that happened in court, which the
reporter did not mention; though I do not think that his report,
together with what I have told you, has left you in the dark with regard
to anything that could be of any help in the clearing up of the mystery
in which the diamond robbery at old Frick's ended.
There is only one thing which I must mention, since the reporter of the
_Morning News_ did not include it. When the judge summed up, he took
the opportunity to censure the conduct of the police in the case. He
referred, he said, to the detective's conduct with regard to lawyer
Jurgens. He was certainly convinced that it had never been his
intention to exercise pressure on the old man, but that he had in a
passion laid hands on him, a circumstance which, at the turn events had
taken in the case, appeared in a very unfavourable light. The detective
had also committed another error in not mentioning the incident when he
gave evidence in court. The judge felt himself obliged to declare that
this conduct might have aided the condemnation of an innocent person.
Any one can understand in what a painful situation I found myself. The
worst of it was, that I was obliged to admit that the judge was
right,--painfully right. Also, the way in which I had conducted the
case had contributed, to a great extent, in throwing a terrible
suspicion upon the one who was the dearest to me in the world. So far,
I did not as yet foresee the result of the turn which the affair had
taken, and which in itself was so surprising, that one hardly had time
to reflect before the judgment was given.
I went home immediately, and tried to think over my position; but even
then I saw only darkness around me. So I pulled myself together and
went to the chief superintendent's office. He still sat there, although
it was rather late in the evening. He was very serious.
"I have already been informed of what has taken place in court," he
said; "and it pains me greatly to hear what has happened. My purpose in
speaking of this, is to spare you giving any account of it. Wait! I
have one thing to tell you before you answer--one thing which you ought
to know as soon as possible. I have given orders for the arrest of Miss
Frick."
I had expected that some such thing must happen, and I succeeded in
assuming an indifference which was anything but what I felt.
"I knew this must happen, sir," I answered, "and I have no doubt what I
ought to do; I have come to ask you to accept my resignation in the
police service. My written application I have not as yet made out, but
you shall have it to-morrow. I ask you to consider it as already in your
hands."
The superintendent looked at me in a friendly way, pressed my hand, and
said:--
"I am sorry, more sorry than you can imagine; but I neither can, nor
will, ask you to take back your resignation. What you have now said was
just what I was prepared to hear from you."
"Have you heard, sir, everything that took place in the court to-day?"
"Yes, I have obtained a verbatim report from the officer who was present
the whole time."
"And what is your opinion?"
"My opinion? I understand you do not refer any longer to yourself; you
are thinking of the young girl whom I have been obliged to
arrest,--well, what shall I say to you? If I say that no one but Miss
Frick could have taken the diamond, then you will be angry with me; and
if I say the contrary, you will think I am speaking against my
conviction--isn't that so?"
He was right, and I remained silent.
As I moved to go, the superintendent took my hand again.
"You have met with a great misfortune, Monk,--a little carelessness on
your part, a bagatelle which, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred,
would have resulted in nothing, has, by force of circumstances, driven
you from a post which you have filled with much energy and ability. And
if I am not mistaken, a greater misfortune has befallen, or, in any case
is likely to befall, one whom you hold dear. With regard to the first,
you are a man of energy, and it is hardly necessary to ask you not to
lose courage; you have done nothing wrong, and the world is wide and
generally repays one for one's labour. As for the latter, I have also
some advice. Wait patiently! I read plainly in your face what you
intend doing--you will use all your strength and energy in trying to
prove this lady's innocence, against whom everything now seems to tell,
and it is far from my intention to dissuade you in this--perhaps you
will succeed. This much, experience has taught me,--that nothing is
impossible. But should you not succeed--and who can tell? do not make
the mistake of ruining your life for the sake of a woman--kinder to
yourself and to her to break and have done with, it at once, before it
shall be too late. Remember, too, that what is, is inevitable, and that
one cannot build a house of bricks which are already crumbled to dust;
break with it, the earlier the better--before it is too late--and do not
attempt to produce the impossible from a thing which has already proved
to be dust. If I can ever help you, now or later, then come to me
without hesitancy."
These were my superior's friendly and fatherly words. In the years
which have passed by I have only spoken with him once since then upon
this matter.
* * * * *
I was at that time twenty-seven years old, and when the next day dawned,
my courage and energy had returned.
The superintendent was right when he had read in my face the
determination to leave no stone unturned, in order to prove the
innocence of my fiancee--for she was still my fiancee. But I was not to
proceed far in the matter before I discovered that my position at the
time--for I was no longer at the head of a large detective department of
the police--made my work both difficult and unremunerative. It seemed
as if an inexorable fate had decided that the drama, as it had begun,
should be played out to the end, and that no human intervention would be
tolerated.
"Didn't you see Sigrid at once?" asks Clara, suddenly.
"No, it was impossible; I'll tell you just how matters stood: the very
next day all the papers in the town began to speak of the conduct of the
police as it was called. Some even hinted that I should be prosecuted,
as my concealment of the truth had almost led to an innocent person
being convicted. This, however, soon passed over, as my resignation was
accepted without delay. But the result was that in many places I was
received with distrust, and that the superintendent, with whom I had
corresponded about the matter, dared on no account to give me permission
to see the young girl who was under arrest."
I have here some notes from my diary, following from that time on; let
me read them to you. It is not my habit to keep a diary; that kind of
self-confession has never been to my taste, but at that time I did it
from purely professional reasons--in order to have notes to help me in
my work.
Monk pulled out a small thick note-book and began to turn over the
leaves.
"Oh no, don't," said Clara, at the sight of it; "put away the book. I
would rather you told it to us instead."
Monk could not help smiling. "I shall not use the book for long, Mrs.
Viller; but I think it is best to get to the end of the story--the
sooner the better. And it will save me much time if I may be allowed to
read a few pages." So Clara gave her permission and Monk read:--
"_June_ 23.--Not possible to obtain permission to see Sigrid.--Tried,
therefore, to see old Frick. Ill! couldn't see me--I don't believe much
in that illness. In the afternoon went to see Evelina's counsel, and
asked him about the letter which had been delivered to him in court at
the time when he asked for postponement. He refused again to give me
any information about the letter or its contents; he was bound to
secrecy, he said. I think very much hangs on this letter; some one must
have given the lawyer weapons to use, not only in defence of Evelina,
but against Sigrid. Who can it be? What can the motive be, and what is
the object?"
I then spoke to the court attendant. He had received the letter from a
commissionaire, with injunctions to deliver it to the counsel for the
defence, without delay. I shall try to find the commissionaire, but
that will perhaps take some days--in the meantime, time flies.
_June_ 25.--Now I have spent two days in looking for the commissionaire.
I began with No. 1, and only when I had got up to 87 did I find the
right man. He had had the letter from a little newspaper boy outside
the grand cafe. At last I got hold of the little newspaper boy. He had
received it from a "gentleman," but whether the gentleman was old or
young, fair or dark, he could not remember--in fact, nothing--and there
I stand!
I tried again to see old Frick. He said he was not at home, but in the
afternoon he sent me the following letter:--
HONOURED SIR,--I had better at once inform you that I do not consider we
two can any longer have any pleasure in each other's acquaintance.
Neither Einar nor Sigrid Frick will ever again set foot in my house, and
your name will never be mentioned here.
Your part, Mr. Monk, in the latter month's events, I am not so sure
about, and I do not intend to trouble myself about it any further.
It is sufficient for me to know that you have assisted in the attempt to
conceal the criminal conduct of my brother's children. That there may
be circumstances which render your conduct excusable, I know well
enough; but at any rate, I do not see why we should meet or see each
other again.
Yours truly,
BARTHOLOMEW FRICK.
Monk looked up from his notes. "Since then I have never spoken to old
Frick."
"But you surely tried to get some explanation from him?"
"I tried, yes; but it was easier said than done. Since that time he has
scarcely spoken with any one, least of all with me. He is as obstinate
as an old goat. But let me proceed, for the sooner I get to the end of
these miserable reminiscences the better."
_June_ 28.--I spent the day in keeping my eye on the actor, Evelina, and
her mother--a difficult task now, since I have to manage without my
trusted constable, and exclusively rely upon myself or some wretched
hireling. Evelina never goes out; she is said to be ill. Her mother
enjoys greatly the role of martyr on her daughter's behalf. She is said
to have received a considerable sum of money from old Frick. The actor
continues his gay life. He seems to have a little money, but nothing
extraordinary.
I have spoken with Mr. Howell. He behaves and speaks like a gentleman,
but ... I have no belief in him. He expressed the greatest regret in
having been mixed up in the case. Nothing could have persuaded him that
it was not Evelina he had photographed in front of the cupboard with the
diamond in her hand. (Yes, but what does that help, when the hands of
the clock and the dress tell another story.) He was going to England in
a few days he said, whatever the police might say or do. He would not
appear in court; but they had, of course, his evidence from the last
proceedings.
I asked what old Frick had to say against his nephew Einar. Mr. Howell
said he could not understand; he had in vain tried to bring the old
fellow round. Mr. Howell apparently speaks very openly; but I have
learned nothing new from him. Does he know nothing? or does he conceal
something?
_July_ 5.---A whole week gone, and I have done nothing! The time draws
near when the case will come again before the court, and every one seems
to be of the opinion--though it is dreadful to have to write it
down--that Sigrid will be found guilty.
I have written twice to Einar Frick in Hamburg, but have not received
any reply, although by telegraphing to his hotel, I have found out that
he has been there and has received my letters.
It seems as if I am beating my head against a stone wall.
I have been to the pawnbroker, Abrahamson. At first I only saw a
humpbacked clerk, who stared at me with a derisive smile, but afterward
Abrahamson himself appeared. He said he had told everything he knew in
court, and had no time to talk with me. It is very different now from
the time when I was chief of the detective force!
The day before yesterday an important thing happened. The actor
Frederiksen left by the night train for Copenhagen. I couldn't keep him
back, and the police wouldn't stop him; and now I suspect that with him
has disappeared one of the few possible chances of getting the robbery
cleared up.
_July_ 6.--All the morning papers announce to-day in big type the news
that Evelina Reierson has committed suicide; she has hanged herself in
her own room in her mother's house. All agree that she committed
suicide while insane. After her arrest she had several times betrayed
signs of insanity, which at last resulted in this deplorable act--so say
the reports. All the papers speak in regretful terms of the event, and
the _Truthseeker_ and several other papers are untiring in expatiating
upon the responsibilities which the "real culprit" and the police must
take upon themselves for what has happened.
I hardly understand how I, in the long run, am going to hold out,
powerless as I am to do anything.
_July_ 7.--I went to-day to Mrs. Reierson's to see if I could possibly
find out if the dead girl had left behind her any message or confession.
As I had expected, however, I was received by the worthy dame with a
shower of curses and abuse. It was impossible to do anything in that
quarter.
Old Frick seems entirely overwhelmed by his niece's guilt, and does not
allow her name to be mentioned. He has, however, engaged the best
lawyer in Christiania as her counsel. Will that be of any use?
_July_ 9.--Only three days before the court meets, and not a step more
forward! Yes, I have done something. I have spoken with the lawyer who
will take up Sigrid's case. He confided to me that Sigrid had informed
him that it was really she who had visited the pawnbroker that
afternoon, to get him to lend her money on her trinkets; but she refused
to explain how she wanted to use the money. The lawyer had impressed
upon her that it was absolutely necessary that she should explain
herself on that point, but the young girl was obdurate.
What can this mean?
What use could Sigrid have for four thousand kroners? and why couldn't
she explain what she wanted them for? This has given me much food for
reflection.
In the meantime, I asked the lawyer if he had taken note of the fact
that the pawnbroker's time by the clock had made it impossible that Miss
Frick could be back at Villa Ballarat at the time when the photograph
was taken. According to the pawnbroker's account, she drove from there
twenty-five minutes to six, and the clock in the photograph showed it to
be twenty minutes to six. The way from Bishop Road to Villa Ballarat
cannot be covered in five minutes.
The lawyer promised to prove this--but what could Sigrid want with four
thousand kroners? What could she have to hide?
Monk closed his note-book.
Yes, thus far go my notes, and the rest is quickly told.
Three days afterward the case came before the court. I was myself
called as witness, but my recollections of that day are very indistinct.
I felt as if I were walking in my sleep or in the throes of a dreadful
dream. If I had been the accused I should have acted calmly and with
presence of mind, I am sure. But I was not accused, though guilty of
having been the cause of bringing the young girl whom I loved more than
my life before a court of justice, and having her accused of having
committed a despicable theft from her benefactor. It was some time
afterward that I, through reading the accounts in the paper, got some
idea of what had taken place that day in the court.
Nearly all the witnesses who appeared against Evelina were also summoned
on this occasion. The evidence threw no new light on the case, so I do
not think it necessary to go more than is absolutely necessary into the
events of that terrible day.
When I gave my explanation of my visit to Mr. Jurgens, the public
attempted to assail me with terms of abuse and derision. The judge soon
called them to order, but I was subjected to the most offensive glances
while I told the story of my own folly.
Sigrid did not attempt to hide her visit to the pawnbroker, but refused
to explain for what purpose she required the money. On the other hand,
she absolutely denied having set foot in the museum between five and
half-past seven.
The public prosecutor in his address especially laid stress upon the
following:--
The accused had herself admitted that she, on the day of the robbery,
had taken most unusual steps to become possessed of a large sum of
money, but that she had not succeeded in this at the pawnbroker's. It
was clear that it was of the greatest importance for her to obtain at
least four thousand kroners that day, and that all other ways out of the
difficulty seemed to be closed against her.
She was one of the few who could, without creating suspicion, go in and
out of the museum where the diamond was kept.
Then there was the photograph taken by Mr. Howell of her standing with
the diamond in her hand at twenty minutes to six that afternoon. That
the photograph represented Miss Frick, although she denied having
visited the museum during that time, there was no longer any doubt,
after an examination with the magnifying glass.
Finally, there was the evidence of the late chief detective, that Mr.
Jurgens at the beginning had declared he had bought the diamond of the
accused. Only later had the old man, frightened by the detective's
improper behaviour, changed his statement.
These were, in brief, the chief points in the public prosecutor's
address, and it is not necessary to add that after the evidence and his
speech, there was scarcely a person in the court who doubted but that
Miss Frick was guilty.
The counsel for the accused had no other defence than the point which I
mentioned in my diary; but this he turned to account beyond all
expectation. It appeared that the time when Miss Frick left the
pawnbroker's could be substantiated to the minute, by the circumstance
that the pawnbroker on this occasion had looked at his watch and asked
his clerk if the time was not twenty-five minutes to six. The clerk had
then leant out of the window, looked at the clock in the church tower,
and answered in the affirmative.
The counsel had also examined the driver who had driven Miss Frick,--I
have perhaps forgotten to tell you that meanwhile I had been able to
trace this person,--and he could clearly remember that on this occasion
he had driven at his usual pace, neither more quickly nor more slowly.
The counsel had, as experiments, taken several drives with the same
horse and carriage, and had found that the distance was never made in
less than fifteen minutes, when driving at the usual pace, and at a more
rapid pace not less than ten minutes.
He had thereby shown, he said, that if Miss Frick was the lady who had
left the pawnbroker's at twenty-five minutes to six--which was now an
established fact--it could not be she who had been photographed with the
diamond in her hand at twenty minutes to six! That the little clock in
the elephant's head was right to the minute, had been proved by Mr.
Frick's evidence.
The public prosecutor, in the reply, stated that it was a well-known
fact that there was often a difference of several minutes in the clocks
of the town.
The counsel maintained that such a great difference as would be
necessary in such a case, at least ten minutes, was scarcely possible.
Altogether, he utilized this circumstance to the utmost, and made his
final appeal to the jury so impressive that when the jury retired, there
was great uncertainty as to the result.
Here Mr. Monk opened his memorandum book and produced a newspaper
cutting, from which he read the conclusion of the counsel's address:--
"It would be foolish of me to maintain that I have proven that my client
is not guilty of the theft of which she is accused. But I have the
right to ask: Is there any one who believes that the public prosecutor
has proved her guilt? I have, at any rate, shown that in order that the
assertion of the prosecution may hold good, the young lady must have
been in two places at the same time. If she had been at the
pawnbroker's at the time when all the evidence went to show she was
there, then she cannot be the person who was photographed by Mr. Howell
with the stolen diamond in her hand.
"I admit that there is weighty circumstantial evidence against the young
lady; but have I not also shown that there is also weighty
circumstantial evidence in contradiction? All will agree that this is
an unusual case. This robbery, which has now been twice before the
court, in the form of two different charges against two different
persons, will remain a mystery, whatever the verdict of the jury may be
to-day.
"I venture to say, that whatever your judgment may be to-day, we shall
to-morrow hear that half of the public approve of it, and the other half
disapprove.
"The theft is, and will remain, a mystery.
"Any one who was present at the former trial, will remember that when
the case was nearly concluded, in fact, just before the jury retired,
there was scarcely a person in court who was not convinced that the case
was as clear as any could be, and that the conscience of the jurymen
would not be troubled in any way by pronouncing a verdict of 'Guilty.'
But an hour or two afterward all were agreed that they might with just
as easy a mind pronounce a verdict of 'Not guilty.' Might not the same
thing happen to-day?
"I am not so fortunate, it is true, as my colleague, who was the counsel
for the defence on the first occasion. I have not, at any rate,
succeeded in producing evidence which would compel the prosecution to
drop the case,--but I have at least succeeded in showing that if the
public prosecutor is correct in his statements, then my client must be a
super-natural being!"
The counsel concluded with a passionate appeal to the jury on behalf of
his client, and sat down.
"The jury consulted for three hours," continued Monk, and when they at
last returned into court, their answer to the question of "Guilty or not
guilty" was: "No! Not guilty."
A sigh of relief escaped simultaneously from Clara and myself, and Monk
looked up with a strange melancholy smile.
"Yes, I understand. I felt just as you now feel when the verdict was
made known. The first impression was one of infinite joy and relief;
but it was not to last long. The verdict was received by the public
with deep silence; and when Sigrid was liberated, and about to leave the
court, she was received with hooting and hissing by the large crowd
which in an incredibly short time had collected outside. Stones were
thrown after her carriage, and it was with the greatest difficulty that
the police got her safely away."
"How terrible!" said Clara. "How could any one have the heart to
torture the poor girl any further. Did they believe then that she was
guilty?"
"Guilty!" exclaimed Monk, with another melancholy smile. "I don't
believe there were ten people in Christiania the next day who were not
convinced that Sigrid Frick had stolen her uncle's diamond, and that
there were dark pages in her life which were the cause of her being in
need of money. Then, besides this, she was looked upon as the cause of
Evelina's suicide."
The next day the papers contained accounts of what had happened the day
before in the court, and the trial was the general topic of
conversation. No one seemed to doubt that Miss Frick was guilty. The
suicide of Evelina had especially tended to inflame the minds of the
public. Most people were convinced that the cause of the suicide was,
as I have already mentioned, the treatment to which she had been exposed
while being accused of a crime of which she was innocent.
In one paper appeared a furious leader with the heading: "Is there one
law for the rich, and another for the poor?" It dwelt at some length
upon the position of the poor young girl in the service of the rich
young lady. How the rich lady had stolen the diamond in order to use
the money for--well, I will not repeat the words;--how the poor girl was
arrested by the police, driven out of her wits, and eventually to
suicide. How the police, who apparently seemed to be on a friendly
footing with the rich lady, tried to screen her guilt, and how riches
had eventually succeeded in getting the wealthy criminal acquitted.
The result of this article was that a large mob proceeded next day to
Frick's villa, in the belief that Sigrid was still there, and broke all
the windows, hooting and hissing all the time.
Old Frick naturally became furious, and, armed with his revolver and his
sabre, he single-handed attacked the mob which surrounded the house.
He was no doubt under the impression that he was followed by a force
consisting of the coachman and the gardener; but these cautious warriors
did not follow him further than the gate.
Fortunately, old Frick had forgotten to load his revolver, so no great
mischief was done. He was at once surrounded and forced up against his
railings. He managed, however, to use his sword, if not with dexterity,
at least with such fury that it took some time before any one ventured
to come near him.
He had succeeded in wounding several half-tipsy roughs, who attempted to
close with him, when finally an ingenious young cattle driver caught up
a garden seat and rushed at him, using this as a shield. Old Frick's
sword got jammed in the seat; he was disarmed, and struck on the head
with an empty bottle, and thrown to the ground. Some mounted police at
last appeared on the scene, charged the crowd, and saved the old man,
after which the mob dispersed quietly.
The blow which old Frick received on his head resulted in concussion of
the brain. For several days he lingered between life and death, and
has, since that time, owing to paralysis in his legs, not been able to
leave his chair without assistance.
*CHAPTER IV*
*MONK'S EXAMINATION*
I haven't much more to tell you now, (continued Monk). A few days
afterward, Sigrid left to join her brother in Hamburg, whence they both
sailed for America, and I have not seen either of them since. With
regard to the life I have led these last few years, you, Frederick, know
about as much as I do myself. If I have not left the country, it was
because an irresistible impulse forced me to haunt the place where my
happiness and my expectations had been overthrown, and to try again and
again to clear up the mystery which had destroyed the happiness of so
many.
My profession of private detective has provided me with sufficient
means, both in finances and other respects, to continue my
attempts--attempts which up to now have unfortunately brought no results
whatever.
At first I had many difficulties to contend against, before I could
attain to the position I now occupy. The part I played in the diamond
case had made me unpopular with the public, and all my friends advised
me to leave the country.
Still, the public does not remain of the same opinion from one day to
another. The feeling against me gradually subsided. I fancy people had
an idea that a hard and entirely undeserved fate had befallen me and
others concerned in this matter. I was fortunate in being able to clear
up one or two mysterious affairs, and now, in short, I can no longer
complain of want of sympathy from the public.
I have nothing more to add than that I still consider it the object of
my life to unravel this mysterious affair. I have not followed the
superintendent's advice, and I intend continuing as I have begun, if
necessary, to the end of my days. All the people who have played a part
in the events which I have told you of, I keep well under my
surveillance, either personally, or through my agents. Sometimes I feel
as if I could give up everything in despair, for, as I have told you, up
till now I have no result to show. Then again my common sense and my
experience--not my presentiments--tell me that the solution must come in
time, perhaps before I expect it.
"But why have you decided so suddenly to go to America?" This time it
was I who spoke.
"Some days ago," he replied, "I received the notice of Einar Frick's
death. I shall once again speak to Sigrid. I have certain things to
ask her about; perhaps she will now answer me."
We were all silent. Monk went over to the bookcase and began to put
some books to rights which were disarranged on the shelf.
Clara got up and crossed over to him, but he did not turn round,
although he must have heard her steps. He did not even look when she
laid her hand on his shoulder.
"But even now, you have not told us everything!"
"Yes, everything that can be of interest to others."
"No, you are wrong, Monk," said my wife, in a friendly tone, not
removing her hand from his shoulder. "Did you not ask us to help you?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, and however strange it may seem, yet I believe that one of these
little mice can this time help the lion. But you must first tell us
everything. When Miss Frick left, why didn't you go with her? Perhaps
you thought then that she had stolen the diamond?"
"No, I didn't--but--well, how can I explain myself; you will not
understand me--I believe in her, and yet there are moments when--"
"You men are a miserable lot of creatures when it comes to a question of
trust," said Clara, with unction. "You, Monk, and very likely you,
Frederick, would do the same. You do not hesitate to assure a woman
that you respect and love her above everything in the world; but if only
there comes a wretched photograph, or some accidental coincidence, then
you believe the same woman to be capable of committing the lowest and
most degrading of crimes. Yes, I speak not so much with regard to the
robbery, as that she, if she were guilty, allowed another to suffer in
her place! Let me tell you what passed between you and Sigrid, and then
you shall tell me if I am right?"
Monk only nodded, with his face half turned away, and my wife continued
in a severe tone:--
"You went to Sigrid and assured her that you believed in her innocence,
in spite of all, and you proposed that you should get married at once
and go abroad!"
Monk nodded again.
"But she answered that she read doubt at the bottom of your heart, and
that it was better that you should both part; isn't that so?"
"Yes," answered Monk, turning round to us--he was dreadfully pale--"I
tried hard to get her to tell me why she had attempted that day to get
money at the pawnbroker's. If it could clear the matter and prove my
innocence, she said, then she would do it; but as the affair stands, it
would not serve any purpose, and only bring disgrace upon another.
"'It was to get your brother out of some difficulty,' I urged.
"'It is of no use talking about it,' she said. 'It will not take away
the doubt from your heart. Even if you fancy it gone, it will come
again and again; and do you think we can get away from people's talk and
malice? No, the world is too small for that! And if we got married, and
had children, could we be sure that they would never get to know of
their mother's past? I have also a duty to fulfil to my brother; and in
that you could not take part. To you he would always be the one who had
poisoned our life.'
"Such were her words, as near as possible. I felt I had only empty and
meaningless words to say in reply to them, and so we parted."
"There, didn't I tell you so!" exclaimed Clara. "It is your own doubt
which is the cause of your weakness. That is the reason you have not
been able to penetrate the darkness."
"I think you are wrong there, Mrs. Viller," answered Monk, gently, "but
the work has been too much for my strength. I fancy it would have been
too much for any man. Mention anything I ought to have done, and I
think I can answer you that it has already been tried."
"Don't be angry," were Clara's next words, and this time they were as
gentle as Monk's own. "I know you have as much feeling as you have
common sense, and perhaps more feeling than most people; but with you
men, reason always comes off victorious in the end. You cannot alter
your natures, I suppose. Now we must see how we can help Monk,
Frederick, as he can't help himself; isn't that so?"
"Yes," I answered as cheerfully as I possibly could; "it would be
strange if we three, when we have put our heads together, should not be
able to clear up the mystery. You have here what you hitherto have
lacked, Monk--the experience of an expert in many branches, as
represented by me, and a woman's intuition and instinct, as represented
by Clara. But as a preliminary, Monk will have to be examined. Have
you anything to ask Monk, Clara? You shall be the first, then my turn
comes."
"Yes, I must begin," answered Clara, looking in a very friendly manner
at Monk, as if to appease him if she had wounded him with her remarks.
"Tell me, was not the Englishman, Howell, as he was called, in love with
Sigrid? Didn't he pay his attentions to her, and wasn't he rejected?"
Monk began to smile. "I fancy he did try a little at first, but he soon
saw that I had forestalled him, and so, with a good grace I'll admit, he
left the field clear. If he had made any definite advances, I think
Sigrid would have told me."
"Are you quite sure about that?" answered Clara, with an air of
superiority. "One is not of course father confessor to one's fiancee.
But can you tell me any other reason why he should hate both of you?"
"Are you sure he hated us?"
"Yes, I am quite sure about it; he is the cause of the whole mischief.
The photograph was of course nothing but humbug."