During all this time the Executive Committee sat in continuous session,
for it had been agreed that no recess of more than thirty minutes
should be taken until a decision had been reached. The room in which
they sat was a large one, lighted by windows on one side only. Coleman
sat behind a raised desk at one end. Below it stood a small table
accommodating two. On either side six small tables completed three
sides of a hollow square. No ornament, no especial comforts--the desk,
the thirteen pine tables, the twenty-eight pine chairs, the wooden
walls, the oil lamps, the four long windows--that was all.
The prisoners, who, when they had seen the thousands before the jail,
had expected nothing less than instant execution by lynch law, began to
take heart. After a man has faced what he thinks is the prospect of
immediate and unavoidable death, such treatment as this arouses real
hope. The prisoners were strictly guarded and closely confined, it is
true, but they understood they were to have a fair trial "according to
law." That last phrase cheered them immensely. They knew the law. Nor
were they entirely cut off from the outside. Casey was allowed to see
several men in regard to certain pressing business matters, and was
permitted to talk to them freely, although always in the presence of a
member of the committee. Cora received visits from Belle. She had spent
thousands in his legal defence; now she came to see him faithfully, and
tried to cheer him, but was plainly cowed. Her self-control had
vanished. She clung to him passionately, weeping. He was forced to what
should have been her rôle; and in cheering her he managed to gain a
modicum of self-confidence for himself. She left him at midnight, much
reassured.
But on Monday morning Cora's cell door was thrown open, and he was
motioned forth by a grave man, who conducted him through echoing gloomy
corridors to the committee room, where he was left facing the tables
and the men who sat behind them. Cora's natural buoyancy vanished. The
men before him met his gaze with rigid, unbending solemnity. The rain
beat mournfully against the windows, blurring the glass, casting the
high apartment in a half gloom. Nobody moved or spoke. All looked at
him. The echo of his footsteps died, and the room was cast in stillness
except for the soft dashing of the storm.
"Charles Cora," at last pronounced Coleman in measured tones, "you are
here on trial for your life, accused with the murder of United States
Marshal Richardson."
Cora, who was a plucky man, had recovered his wits. He must have
realized that he was in a tight place, but he kept his head admirably.
His demeanour took on alertness, his manner throughout was respectful,
and his voice low.
"Do I get no counsel?" he inquired.
"Counsel will be given you."
He put in an earnest plea for counsel outside the tribunal--impartial
counsel.
"Our members are impartial," Coleman told him.
Cora hesitated; locking about him.
"If Mr. Truett will act for me," he suggested; "and I beg you
earnestly, gentlemen, that the excitement of the time may not be
prejudicial to my interests, that I may have a chance for my life!"
"Your trial will be fair," he was assured.
"I shall undertake the defence," Truett agreed briefly; "and petition
that Mr. Smiley be appointed as my assistant."
This being granted, the three men drew one side for a consultation. In
a short time Truett handed to the sergeant-at-arms--the same man who
had conducted Cora to the tribunal--a list of the witnesses Cora wished
to summon. These were at once sought by a subcommittee outside. In the
meantime, witnesses for the prosecution were one by one admitted,
sworn, and examined. All ordinary forms of law were closely followed.
All essential facts were separately brought out. It was the historic
Cora trial over again, with one difference--gone were the technical
delays. By dusk Keith, who had been called at three, had all but
completed the long tale of his testimony, had finished recounting, not
only what he had seen of the quarrel and the subsequent shooting, but
also a detailed account of the trial, the adverse influences brought to
bear on the prosecution, and his investigations into the question of
"undue influence." No attempt was made to confine the investigation to
the technical trial.
Keith was the last witness for the prosecution. And the witnesses for
the defence, where were they? Of the list submitted by Cora not one
could be found! In hiding, afraid, the perjurers would not appear!
The dusk was falling in earnest now. The corners of the room were in
darkness. Beneath Coleman's desk Bluxome, the secretary, had lighted an
oil lamp the better to see his notes. In the interest of Keith's
testimony the general illumination had not been ordered. Outside the
tiny patch of yellow light the men of Vigilance sat motionless,
listening, their shadows dim and huge against the wall.
The door opened, and Charles Doane, the Grand Marshal of the
Vigilantes, advanced three steps into the room.
"Mr. President," he said clearly, his voice cutting the stillness, "I
am instructed to announce that James King of William is dead."