IN CHAMBERS
The Criminal Court Building in New York City is a huge square block of
yellow brick with an incongruous cornice and grandiose trimmings. It
is of the Tammany period. Among architectural aberrations, architects
give it a leading place. It was run up on the site of an old pond, and
was no sooner up than it threatened to fall down again. There was a
great scare at the time, but that has long ago been forgotten. The
monument still stands, secure in its ugliness.
It is one of the busiest places in the city. It knows no long
vacations during the heated term. Day in and day out the mills of
justice grind feverishly without ever quite catching up with the grist
that is offered. Judges from quieter jurisdictions up state have
continually to be imported to relieve the overworked metropolitan
incumbents.
Within the building there is a vast enclosed court surrounded by wide,
cement-paved galleries tier above tier. Every day during court hours
these galleries are thronged with what is surely the most diverse
collections of humanity ever brought together under a roof; witnesses
principally, or friends of the accused. Every walk of life is
represented; every stratum of society. But among the countless types
four are repeated over and over; wary-eyed initiates of the underworld,
weeping women, shabby insinuating lawyers looking for business, and
detectives with eyes as wary as the gunmen, but better fed men and full
of a conscious rectitude. Dozens of little dramas are going on
simultaneously.
On a certain stifling morning in mid-summer, amongst the dozens of
court-rooms the interest of the building was focused in General
Sessions, Part One, where the case of the People versus Counsell was
being tried under Stockman, J. A murder trial. Common as they are in
that building a murder trial never quite loses its zest, and this,
owing to the prominence of the persons concerned, was a celebrated
case. Every morning a great crowd struggled to get into the courtroom,
though the evidence was not of a sensational nature. There was no
woman in the case. It was a foregone conclusion too; one of those
cases which had been tried out in the newspapers before being brought
into court, and a verdict of guilty rendered. Nobody had a good word
for the defendant except the morbid women who stormed the court-room
doors, and who secured a majority of the seats inside, simply because
they were more persistent than the men. These women always sympathize
with the prisoner, particularly if, as in this case, he happens to be
young and comely.
As a result of the furore in the newspapers many days had been taken up
in the effort to secure an impartial jury. But once the taking of
evidence began the proceedings moved swiftly enough. Only two days had
been required by the prosecutor to present his case. Hackett, the
particular star of the district-attorney's office, handled it. He had
scarcely been obliged to exert himself; everything was going his way.
In three days more the defendant's direct testimony was all in.
Counsell was his own principal witness. He had told a straightforward
story on the stand, and a ruthless cross-examination had failed to
shake it. Unfortunately for him he had no witnesses to support his
story. Proof of it rested with the dead man. There had been no
witnesses to the final scene between them. The trial had now reached
the stage of rebuttal testimony offered by the People.
When Court adjourned for the noon recess, Corveth of Defendant's
counsel made his way out of the building with a heavy air of dejection.
He was a young man, the same age as the prisoner, an old friend it was
said, and he had full charge of Counsell's case. He had put up a
strenuous fight for his friend, but not perhaps a brilliant one. He
was a first-rate lawyer, but he lacked the art of certain famous
pleaders who, when they have a bad case, set out to charm and dazzle
judge and jury with moving if irrelevant eloquence. Corveth was in
deadly earnest. He passionately believed in his client's innocence,
but he had scarcely succeeded in proving it. And he had often
irritated the Bench by his dogged fight on points of law which took up
time without apparently getting anywhere. Even now it was a mistake of
tactics for Corveth so clearly to betray his discouragement to the
inquisitive observers in the galleries.
Two hours later when he returned, the man's whole bearing had changed.
Dejection had given place to an air of excitement so great that it was
impossible to tell whether it was a pleasurable excitement or the
reverse. His pale skin seemed to gleam with excitement; his clothing
was a little disarranged; the man looked slightly stunned.
He was escorting a heavily veiled woman, a young woman judging from her
figure and carriage, and they were followed by such an oddly-assorted
group as you could only find walking together in that building.
Witnesses obviously. It included two other women, one a flashy, pretty
little thing, with hard, assured eyes, the other a domestic servant
apparently. The men ranged all the way from a highly prosperous
gentleman, a banker possibly, down to a couple of taxi-drivers and a
farm laborer. The word went around the galleries like wildfire that
there was something up in the Counsell case, and a new crowd pressed to
the doors of the courtroom. It was too late to get in. Corveth left
his witnesses outside where they remained guarded by a couple of young
men from his office against the questions of the curious.
Within the court-room Corveth was seen to enter into an excited,
whispered discussion with the defendant. Corveth was the excited one.
Counsell appeared to be trying to soothe him. Their talk was
interrupted by the entrance of the Judge.
When the proceedings were opened Corveth rose and in a voice that
trembled oddly said: "If it please your Honor since we adjourned
important new evidence has been offered to me."
The judge stared and bit his lip in irritation. There were so many
cases on his calendar! Were they all to be dragged out past all reason
by the lawyers! This of course was merely the grand stand play of a
lawyer with a bad case. To do him justice, his Honor controlled his
irritation before he spoke.
"Mr. Corveth, I trust you have taken thought of what you are saying.
You have had every opportunity to present your case."
"Twelve new witnesses have just been brought to me, sir, whose
existence I never suspected."
"Twelve! How could that be? You have been studying this case for
weeks. In what manner were new witnesses brought to you at this late
date?"
"They were brought to me by a person interested in this case, who has
been conducting an investigation unknown to me."
"And you say their evidence is important?"
"Of the utmost importance, sir. It throws an entirely new light on the
case."
In his irritation the overworked judge was understood to mutter: "I
doubt it!"
Corveth flushed crimson, but held his tongue.
Observing the flush, his Honor went on more mildly, but still with
bitterness: "Understand, Mr. Corveth, it is not your word that I doubt,
but only your estimate of the importance of this evidence. A long
experience on the bench has taught me that matters which appear of
overwhelming importance to opposing counsel, have a way of shrinking
sadly when they are brought out on the stand."
A titter went around the court-room. The gavel rapped viciously.
"Should this evidence not be admitted sir, it may put the State to the
expense of a new trial."
The Assistant District Attorney was on his feet. "I object. Surely it
is grossly improper for Counsel to make such statements in the hearing
of the jury."
"It is only his opinion," said the judge wearily. "It will not appear
in the record." To Corveth he said: "Well, what do you want me to do?"
"To give me time to hear these persons' stories, sir. An adjournment
until to-morrow morning."
The judge said nothing, but his face was set hard against it.
"Or if Mr. Hackett is willing to go on with his evidence in rebuttal, I
only ask for leave to re-open my case to-morrow. I can sit up all
night."
Mr. Hackett smiled rather pityingly. "With all respect to Counsel," he
said, "I don't see that anything is to be gained by going on if Mr.
Corveth is going to introduce an entirely new element."
"I agree with you," said the judge. He appeared to have made up his
mind. "Mr. Corveth," he went on, "you realize of course that if I give
you this time the District-Attorney is entitled to a similar
indulgence. Where would we end? These gentlemen on the jury have
already been detained from their homes and their businesses for many
days. I owe them the greatest consideration. I must have some further
assurance of the importance of your evidence before I can consent to
any delay. You say this story has just been told you by somebody. Is
he present?"
"It is a woman, your Honor. She is present."
The court-room pricked up its ears.
"Then why not put her on the stand?"
"It would be useless, your Honor. She could give little or no direct
testimony as to what occurred. She has _collected_ the testimony and
brought me the witnesses."
"They are here, too? Then put your principal witness on the stand. I
will give you as much latitude as I can in questioning him. And if
anything important transpires I will grant the adjournment you ask for."
"I thank your Honor. Unfortunately, as I understand it, none of these
witnesses can tell a complete story of what happened. Each one can
only add a link or two to the chain. You could scarcely judge from the
testimony of any one of them how important their evidence would be
taken collectively."
His Honor sighed for patience, and bit his lip.
"But if I might offer a suggestion, sir...?"
"Well?"
"Could you not request the jury to retire and hear this lady's story in
your chambers? You could then decide in a few minutes whether or not
it warranted an adjournment."
His Honor tapped his desk reflectively with a pencil.
The Assistant-District-Attorney was protesting. "Your Honor, whatever
may come of this matter, an impression is being created here highly
prejudicial to the case of the people..."
Corveth interrupted him: "I should be quite willing to have Mr. Hackett
present while this lady is telling her story, so that he may have the
fullest opportunity to meet the evidence she has to offer."
This more than anything Corveth had said, inclined the judge to believe
that he really had something up his sleeve. Moreover it was a generous
offer. The judicial face thawed a little on defendant's counsel. It
then turned to the jury.
"Gentlemen of the jury I will ask you to retire for a few minutes to
give me the opportunity of deciding whether this evidence is material
to the case."
The jury filed out in one direction, and his honor went the other, his
silken robe billowing behind him. The court-room buzzed with an
excited whispering: "What do you suppose is up?"
Corveth brought the veiled woman to the Judge's room through another
door. "Chambers" was simply a smallish room with a ceiling so lofty
that it gave the effect of a room stood up on the wrong end. A wide
flat-topped desk filled a great part of the floor space. His Honor,
brought down from the eminence of his dais was revealed as a smallish
man with a wise, humane face, much harassed as the result of over-work.
In the little room he looked much more human.
He waved the lady to a chair at his right hand. Hackett, with a
cynical expression, lounged in a chair by the window. Corveth was too
nervous to sit. As the lady seated herself she threw back her veil.
"Miss Broome!" exclaimed the judge in surprise. "You have already
testified in this case!" He looked reproachfully at Corveth. Corveth
signed to him to wait.
"Did you not tell all you know?" Judge Stockman demanded.
Pen slowly shook her head.
"How do you reconcile that with your conscience?"
"I answered all the questions," she said softly. "Mr. Corveth could
not ask me about these other matters, because he knew nothing of them."
"But you are acting in the defendant's interest, I assume. Surely his
Counsel had a right to know what was going on."
"It was not from any lack of confidence in him," Pen said, with a warm
glance at Corveth. "It would have been fatal to us if the least
whisper of what we were doing had got about before we had complete
proof. We tried our best to obtain a postponement of the trial. When
that was denied it was very difficult to know what to do. Mr. Counsell
decided, and I agreed with him, that we must go ahead and keep
everything hidden. We did not tell Mr. Corveth because he is too
honest to play a part. If he had known what we knew, our enemies would
have read it in his face in the court-room. If we have acted wrongly I
hope you will remember that we had a powerful and unscrupulous enemy."
His Honor did not appear much impressed, though it was not hidden that
he approved of Pen's exterior. "And do you think you have complete
proof now?" he asked with an indulgent smile.
"I obtained it only yesterday, sir."
"Well, tell me what you expect to prove."
Pen looked rather helpless. "Mr. Corveth said I must be brief ...
There is so much to tell... I scarcely know where to begin..."
Corveth prompted her. "Tell Judge Stockman what witnesses you have
brought me and what you expect to prove by each one."
Pen nodded. "The first witness will be a young woman named Blanche
Paglar. She will testify that up to the day that Collis Dongan was
shot she was friends with ... I mean lived with..." She hesitated,
blushing.
Corveth helped her out with the legal euphemism.
"Yes, she was the common-law-wife of a young man known as Spike Talley.
She will testify that Talley told her at this time that he had
undertaken a job for a rich man, whose name he never told her, and that
he was to get ten thousand dollars for it."
"What!" exclaimed Judge Stockman. "What sort of job?"
"Talley was what is called a gangster or a gunman," said Pen. "When
they say 'a job' they mean a killing, a murder."
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the Judge. "Do you mean to say you have had
to associate with such people?"
"They were kind to me," said Pen simply.
"Go on."
"She will testify that Spike Talley's duties in connection with his
'job' necessitated his putting on dress clothes every evening and going
to a certain fashionable hotel to dine. He never told her the name of
the hotel, but on one occasion he brought her a menu-card with the name
torn off. That card will be identified as one from the Hotel
Warrington."
"Ha!" exclaimed his Honor as the connection began to show.
"Talley also told her that his 'boss' gave him a drink of whiskey every
time he went to his house. He described to her how it stood on the
sideboard in a handsome, square, cut-glass bottle, and how he was
always invited to help himself."
"The importance of this will appear later," murmured Corveth.
Pen went on: "Blanche will testify that Spike Talley left her for the
last time on the afternoon of May 27th, the day of the murder. Some
days later she reported his disappearance to the police. They could
find no trace of him, if indeed they ever looked. Blanche never
connected his disappearance with the death of Collis Dongan, because
the newspapers made out from the beginning that it was certain Mr.
Counsell had committed that crime."
His Honor was now thoroughly interested in Pen's story. Even
Assistant-District-Attorney Hackett had lost a good deal of his
scornful air. The judge said:
"But if this Talley has disappeared can you _prove_ anything?"
"You'll see, sir... The next witness is a taxi-driver who was a friend
of Spike Talley's. He will testify that at this time Talley came to
his garage every evening and engaged the witness to drive him up to the
Hotel Warrington. I could prove by waiters in the hotel that Talley
dined there every evening--they have identified his photograph, but Mr.
Corveth says it will hardly be necessary, because the next witness, Mr.
Slaughter, would carry more weight.
"Mr. Slaughter is a gentleman of means and position who resides at the
Warrington. He will tell how he became acquainted with Talley through
seeing him dine at the next table. Talley was a young man of much
charm of manner. Mr. Slaughter never suspected what he was. The two
became quite friendly, and on a number of occasions after dinner, Mr.
Slaughter invited Talley up to his apartment which was on the same
floor as Mr. Dongan's and Mr. Counsell's. Mr. Slaughter will further
testify how on one occasion he discovered Talley ... what would you say
... flirting with the hotel maid on that floor, and remonstrated with
him. Talley passed it off with a laugh. Talley visited him for the
last time on the night of the murder.
"The next witness will be the maid, Mary Crehan. She will tell how
Talley 'made up to her' as she says, and how on one occasion he took
her to a moving picture theater. It appears from what she recollects
of their conversation that Talley was pumping her for information as to
the lay-out of Mr. Dongan's apartment, and Mr. Counsell's, and
information as to the habits of the two men. But he did this so
adroitly that the girl never thought of connecting him later with the
shooting. She will testify how one evening after having talked with
Talley in the corridor, she missed her keys. It never entered her head
that the fashionably-dressed young gentleman had anything to do with
it. She found them the next night in the cupboard on that floor where
she was accustomed to leave them upon going off duty. The bunch
consisted of half a dozen master keys which would admit her to any
apartment on that floor.
"The next witness is a locksmith, an acquaintance of Talley's, who will
identify the maid's keys as the same bunch brought to him by Talley to
be duplicated. He did duplicate them, and handed both sets to Talley,
This was about ten days before the murder.
"The next witness is another taxi-driver who had no acquaintance with
Talley, but is prepared to identify his photograph as that of a man who
engaged him outside the Hotel Warrington about midnight on May 27th."
"Midnight?" interrupted Judge Stockman. "That was _after_ the murder.
Can't you connect this Talley directly with the deed?"
"No, sir. He was too clever ... Besides that was not my principal
object. I was looking for proof against his employer."
"Oh, do you know him too?"
Pen nodded.
"Go ahead."
"This taxi-cab driver could not at first remember the address to which
he had driven Talley, but he gave us the locality, and when we drove
with him through the streets of that neighborhood he unhesitatingly
picked out the house."
"How could he do that?"
"Well, it was a peculiar looking house; different from any other in the
neighborhood, from any other in town probably. It is in Thirty-Ninth
street, East of Lexington."
"Go on."
"He stalled his engine and had to get out of his car to start it. Thus
he saw Talley admitted to the house, and had a glimpse of the man who
admitted him. Out of a number of photographs handed him he picked out
one which he is ready to swear is that of the man who admitted Talley."
"He could have got but the briefest of glances."
"But it is of a striking-looking man, your Honor."
"What next?"
Pen said slowly: "Talley was never seen alive after that."
"What!" exclaimed Judge Stockman, "you charge a second murder! ... Go
on."
"For many days we could get no further," Pen said. "Finally one of
Talley's friends volunteered to break into that house to look for
evidence."
"But this is burglary!"
"The witness, known as Babe Riordan, is prepared to waive immunity when
he goes on the stand. If a charge is laid against him he will stand
his trial."
"Did he find anything in the house?"
"He found the square, cut-glass whiskey bottle on the sideboard. It
had been emptied, but we took it to a chemist, our next witness, who is
prepared to testify that it contained well defined traces of cyanide."
His Honor frowned. "Dubious evidence!" he said. "Even suppose a jury
were inclined to believe the chemist, how would they know but that the
last witness, a self-confessed burglar, remember, did not put the
poison in the bottle himself?"
"There is more evidence," said Pen. "It appears that according to the
law a druggist may not sell such poisons without a doctor's
prescription. A search was conducted through the various drug-stores
in the neighborhood, and several prescriptions for cyanide traced back.
One was traced to the man who occupies that house on Thirty-Ninth
street."
"The man identified by the second taxi-driver as he who admitted Talley
to the house?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah then, you're getting closer to it. Who is this man?"
Pen hesitated. "Mr. Corveth told me that his name should not be
mentioned at this trial."
His Honor looked a little nonplussed. "... Er ... well perhaps not ...
perhaps not! Have you more evidence against him?"
"We can show that three days before the murder he drew ten thousand
dollars in cash from the bank."
"Ah, the price named by the first witness. But what good will that do
you if it is your contention that he murdered his tool instead of
paying him?"
"Because we can show that the day after the murder he re-deposited the
amount in another bank."
"Ah! Anything else?"
"Our next task of course was to try to prove what had become of
Talley's body. This took us many more days."
"You engaged detectives to help you?"
"No, sir. I hadn't money enough. But all of Spike Talley's friends
helped me. They proved themselves as good detectives as professionals."
"But they are only making out their friend to be a murderer!"
"They seem not to mind that. According to their code he was simply
doing his job. Instead of getting his pay for it he was murdered.
They wish to avenge him by helping to convict his murderer. I might
say that if it was not for me they would probably choose a more direct
way of avenging him, but I have persuaded them that it would be a much
more terrible punishment to bring the murderer into court."
His Honor wagged his head. "You have been keeping strange company,
young lady!"
"I had no choice, sir."
"I suppose you know that these gunmen, gangsters, burglars and so on
are not very credible witnesses."
"They are not my principal witnesses, sir. I rely chiefly on Mr.
Slaughter, the different professional men, the servants, the second
taxi-driver, all of whom are obviously disinterested."
"Where did you get so much information about what constitutes evidence
and so on."
"We had legal advice, sir. Not from Mr. Corveth, but from another
lawyer, who once defended Spike Talley."
"Go on."
"We had the house on Thirty-Ninth street searched from top to bottom
without discovering any clues as to what became of the body. It was
not until we went to Mr. ... to the rich man's country place, that we
began to make progress. We learned there, that two days after the
murder, that was Sunday, the owner brought a barrel up from the city in
the back of his automobile. He informed his servants that it contained
a new poison with which he intended to spray his fruit trees--I should
explain that he is an extensive raiser of fruit, and under his
supervision the barrel was put in a little shed in one of the orchards
where the spraying apparatus, the poisons and so on were kept."
"Can't you establish a connection between the barrel and the house on
Thirty-Ninth street?"
"To a certain extent, yes. When we learned of the barrel some of us
went back to the Thirty-Ninth street neighborhood to investigate. We
have a grocer who will testify that he sold such an empty barrel to the
man in question, who was particular to see that he got a perfectly
fitting head to the barrel. He told the grocer he wanted to ship some
china up to his country place. He carried the barrel away in his car."
"Did the grocer know the man who bought the barrel?"
"No, sir. But he can identify the man. And describe the car."
"Well, assuming that the barrel contained a body when it arrived at the
country place, what became of it after that?"
"We have one of the rich man's laborers to testify to that. On the
following day, Monday, this man was ordered to assist his master in one
of the orchards. The day is fixed in the man's mind because it was
Decoration Day and he was disappointed of getting a holiday. I should
tell you that the rich man personally supervised his orchards and often
worked in them himself, so that his actions on this day excited no
particular remark among his servants. He ordered the laborer to gather
up all the piles of twigs and branches which had been pruned in that
particular orchard during the winter, and make one great pile to be
burned. He pointed out a spot of waste ground at a little distance
from the trees where the fire was to be made. He then went away.
"He returned to the orchard when the work was done. He then had a
small can of coal oil. His laborer ventured to remonstrate with him on
the danger of making so great a fire, but his master curtly replied
that he knew what he was about. He sent the laborer on an errand to a
distant part of the estate, saying that he would remain to watch the
fire. The laborer after his rebuke, with a natural hope perhaps that
the fire would get beyond his master, concealed himself behind some
shrubbery at a little distance and watched.
"He saw his master go to the spraying house, bring out the barrel (he
will testify that there was no other barrel of that sort in the house)
and roll it down the orchard to the great heap of branches. He saw him
place it in the center of the pile, pour coal oil all around, and set
it afire. When the flames sprang up, the master began to look about
him suspiciously, and the laborer fearing discovery, hastened away and
saw no more. He told what he had seen to his mates, but it does not
appear that any of them suspected that a crime had occurred. All their
master's actions appeared to them so arbitrary and eccentric they never
tried to explain them. As one of them said, 'You never knew what the
boss was going to do next!'"
"Have you anything more?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir. I will be the next witness. I will tell how the laborer
took me to the spot where the fire had been, and how I searched it.
Several weeks had passed, and the rains had leached out the ashes, but
the place had not been disturbed by a rake or cultivator."
"How do you know?"
"In the center where the heat had been greatest there was nothing but
washed out ashes, but all around the edge were the unconsumed ends of
twigs and branches looking as if they had been arranged in an exact
circle with all the charred ends pointing to the center. I searched
every square inch of the spot while the laborer watched me."
"Where was the master of the place?"
"Oh, I took care to inform myself beforehand that he was not going to
be there at that time."
"And you found...?"
"Some little burned lumps of bone, but it was impossible to say of
what. A little lump of gold that might have been a finger ring--Talley
wore such a ring, but it had melted into a shapeless lump. A piece of
scorched fabric barely recognizable as part of the brim of a man's silk
hat. Finally, in a slight depression where water had gathered, part of
a jawbone in which six teeth were still fairly intact."
The Judge shook his head frowning. "Scarcely conclusive! Scarcely
conclusive!"
"There is one more witness, sir," said Pen. "Considerable dental work
had been done on the teeth, and the fillings were still intact. One of
the teeth it appeared was false, and it had been fastened to its
fellows on either side in an ingenious fashion."
"Ha!"
"Talley it appeared was vain of his personal appearance, and employed a
first-class dentist. The dentist is prepared to go on the stand and
swear from the work on the teeth that this is a part of Talley's jaw."
"From memory?"
"No, sir. He is a modern dentist. He will offer his record in
evidence, which includes diagrams of the man's mouth, showing the work
he did on it from time to time."
Judge Talley forgetting judicial calm jumped up. "Ha! then you _have_
a case!" he cried. "Eh, Mr. Hackett?"
"If it can be proved to the satisfaction of a jury," said the
Assistant-District-Attorney sourly.
Judge Stockman paced slowly up and down. "This is extraordinary ....
extraordinary!" he murmured. He came to a stand in front of Pen.
"Miss Broome, has this man been in court?"
"No, sir. But his representatives are always there. I don't doubt but
he receives hourly reports of the proceedings."
"I think you had better tell me the name of the man you accuse. Not
with any idea of injecting it into this case, but simply that
precautions may be taken against his escape. The police should be
notified."
Pen looked at Corveth, who nodded.
"It is Ernest Riever," she said.
The effect on the two men was electrical. Hackett jumped to his feet,
and supported himself with a hand on the back of his chair.
"Impossible!" he cried.
Judge Stockman in his amazement was staring at Pen almost clownishly.
"Riever...!" he stammered. "Riever! ... Have you thought of what you
are saying!"
A little flame of indignation was lighted in Pen's cheeks. "If he did
it, does it make any difference who he is?"
"Certainly not! Certainly not! ... But Riever! ... We must be very
sure! This would cause the greatest sensation of our time!"
"Best to proceed very slowly, sir!" said Hackett, pale with agitation.
"I have nothing to do with it!" said Judge Stockman with undisguised
relief. "My duty is simply to try Counsell. The rest is up to the
District-Attorney."
"No motive has been established," said Hackett.
"True! True!" The Judge turned almost accusingly to Pen. "What
possible reason could Riever have had?"
Corveth answered for her. "I take it, it is not necessary to go into
Riever's motives in this trial. But we are prepared to show a motive
just the same. Do you remember the Riever divorce case three years
ago?"
"Dimly."
"It was a counter-suit. Mrs. Riever won. Riever's case rested
principally on a letter that he produced in court. It had been written
by Mrs. Riever to some unnamed man. We can show that it had been
written to Counsell, and that Riever knew it had."
The judge stared. "Then your contention is that Riever had this
inoffensive man Dongan killed merely so that he could get back at
Counsell?"
"There is more evidence on that point besides what Miss Broome has
brought out here. I don't need to point out to you how nearly Riever
succeeded in his object."
"Good God!" exclaimed Judge Stockman,
"That would be something new in criminal jurisprudence," sneered
Hackett.
"But not entirely unprecedented," corrected the breathless judge.
"There was the famous Anstey case so often quoted when I was a young
lawyer. And of more recent years the cases of the People vs. Reichardt
and the People vs. Bowley ... But good God! ... Riever...!"
The little judge seemed to have been brought to a complete stand. He
stared ahead of him muttering: "Ernest Riever! ... Good God! ... What a
sensation will be caused...!"
Corveth said: "That is all Miss Broome had to tell you, sir."
It brought the judge to himself with a start. "To be sure! To be
sure!" he said, and cleared his throat. He looked his age. "I will
adjourn court until to-morrow morning. Mr. Hackett, you will get in
touch with the police I suppose. If I were you, I would not take more
than one man into my confidence, say Inspector Durdan of the detective
bureau."
Hackett bowed in acquiescence.
"Gentlemen, let us return to the court-room."